After the Fall
by Eskarina
Summary: Some silly little ideas I've had involving Hawke and her companions, more a series of one-shots than anything, nice and light-hearted. Loads of Fenris/Hawke because yum. Bioware owns everything.
1. Swimming Whole

A/N: My first foray into the Dragon age fandom, X_X Hope I've done this ok, constructive criticism welcome. Just a little silliness to relieve the dark ending of DA2. Fenris/F!Hawke (love that Lyrium covered elf. X3) Thanks to my lovely beta:- Murlyndsgirl, check out her work!

Exhaustion, that was the problem plain and simple.

Hawke stopped the procession once more to lean on a dying tree; on the surface of it, to scan the horizon for any bandits foolish enough to be blocking the road before her and her companions...

The ulterior motive, of course, was just to rest, to lean on something other than her rapidly-dwindling strength for just a few seconds.

It had been a month. A month of running, eating what could be stolen and sleeping in damp caves or worse, and it was grating on all of their nerves. Isabela and Avaline were bitching at one another night and day, the formally affectionate pet names of 'Prude' and 'Whore' slowly becoming genuine insults. Hawke and Donnic were spending all their time pulling the two apart. Sweet, perky little Merrill seemed to be losing her sparkle, walking around with her head turned down and unable to raise a smile even when they came across patches of flowers or nests of bluebirds.

Worse still, Fenris and Anders…

Hawke winced even at the thought. Those two really would be the death of her, and the others if they weren't allowed to relieve the tension of their conflicting personalities soon. Fenris was glaring at the mage night and day, waiting, it seemed, for the mage to attack them and to give him the excuse the elf so badly wanted to chop the man in half in one sweep of his sword.

Of _course_ she herself hadn't quite forgiven Anders for what he'd done either, but even so the choices had been made. Hawke had fought for the mages, not for Anders and his _insane_ plan, not for the years of hatred, but because of blood loyalty to the last remaining family member she had.

Hawke turned her head slightly and managed to find a brief smile, for there, in the caravan of miserable mages, warriors and rogues, was her little sister, alive and as well as could be expected, limping slightly on aching feet, one of dear, sweet Merrill's arms around her to keep her upright. Varric and Isabela, chatting happily between themselves despite their obvious discomfort and dishevelment from not having a real rest for weeks, followed behind the first two mages. Anders and Donnic brought up the rear, staff and sword drawn in case of attacks. Walking closely behind her as she took the lead, Fenris and Avaline; eyes that were naturally built for hunting helping her to scan the horizon for dangers.

Maker, how she loved them all.

_This _was her family now, she realised with a sudden clarity. Here were her brothers and sisters in arms, here were the people whom she would die to protect, and maker damn the mages and the Templars, she wasn't going to join anyone's war, she just wanted…

She wanted…

She wanted to make them all safe. She wanted to find somewhere they could all be free from the blight and the war and just live as they ought to. A mad ambition, she knew, because maker knew that Isabela wouldn't be happy in a gilded cage, Avaline hated anything akin to charity towards herself and Fenris…

He looked away from his apparently intense talk with Avaline and caught Hawke's eyes. She felt her skin flush red and turned quickly away.

Like the wolf for which he was named, Fenris needed his own space, try to cage him and he'd fight tooth and nail to be free, give him some space and he'd come back to his den every time.

Hawke let out a low, tired sigh.

A hand landed on her shoulder, she didn't have to look to see whose it was, she felt the familiar claws of his gauntlets pricking her even through her armour.

"Are you all right?"

She almost laughed. _Of course not_ was what she wanted to say, they'd been driven from their homes, their lives uprooted and destroyed, but she held it back. They needed their leader, after all, no matter how uneasy her head became, she had to wear the crown for them.

"Just tired, Fenris," she muttered softly, her head drooping a little, "Very tired."

She heard the uneasiness in his stance at this, felt the tension in the hand that rested on her shoulder, he was still learning, after all, how to be a lover to her. She knew how hard he found it to show his affection for her publicly, knew that even in this moment he probably wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly and whisper something sweet to her, but at the same time he didn't really know how to begin, or what to say.

He muttered, "Should we make camp for the night?"

Her head shook, "Keep moving, no cover here. Let's make for that copse." She pointed ahead of them, to a smallish grouping of trees, half a mile away at most. It would provide shelter for the night, with any luck. And perhaps there would be… berries, or fruit trees, gingerbread houses maybe, whatever traditionally grew in little woodlands to sustain weary travellers.

There weren't any berry bushes, or fruit trees, any obliging witches who may have built houses out of confectionary had obviously passed this place over without a second look.

But there was, Andraste bless it, a lake, hidden amidst trees. Hawke had almost wept at the sight of it. She delighted in the moment when she saw how her people reacted. Merrill and Isabela were already busily making fishing rods out of whatever they could find, nimble fingers and good instincts soon netted them enough fish for a better meal than they'd seen in weeks. Even Fenris, with his dislike of the things, had brightened at the idea of a hot meal that night.

And now the camp was set up, their makeshift tents erected, a fire burning merrily in their midst, stomachs all full with fresh fish and all of them sitting around just enjoying the chance to rest for a while. Hawke had consented to Bethany and Anders putting up enchanted wards of protection around the area, ignoring the danger of drawing magical attention in favour of the far more pressing need of her companions to just snatch a few hours of relaxation

Their campsite was oddly silent, Hawke realized. For some this might have been worrying, but for her it just meant that none of the old arguments were flaring up. She allowed a smile to play her lips and pondered how best to to nudge them from merely content' into 'happy'.

An idea came to her in a mad rush and that was just how she responded to it. She stood up suddenly, unbuckling her armour as she moved, and called out, "Last one in the lake is paying for drinks when we find a bar!"

Then she was running, dashing for the water and shedding her armour as she went. She dove into the cold, clear liquid in her smalls, not giving a _damn_ about modesty or anything else, just to enjoy for a few moments, that was the key.

She heard splashes behind her and turned, as she suspected, Merrill had been second to her feet, followed closely by Isabela. The former because of course, splashing in natural water was a kind of frolicking, and the latter because she needed very little excuse to strip off. Merrill let out a loud squeal at how cold it was that sent a ripple of laughter through Hawke and Isabela.

Bethany was next, never eager to be left out by big sister, and of course seeing the appeal of a group of wet girls in their smalls, Varric rose to his feet and laid down Bianca with reverence before charging in after the ladies.

Donnic and Avaline followed close behind, Donnic laughing and pulling his blushing bride along behind him as she fought between propriety and her own desire to give in to happiness, just a little. They entered the water half-wrestling, with splashes and laughter.

That left… oh dear.

Hawke bit her lip as she watched Anders and Fenris eye one another across the fire. Suddenly the competitive part of this little game seemed far too serious, she ought to get out of the water now and try to abate the fight that was doubtless about to erupt-

Anders tossed his head in a challenging gesture, and started running. Fenris was mere inches behind him, gauntlets and chest plate dropping with satisfying metallic clangs even as Anders' jacket was thrown off and shirt was yanked over his head. In the water, the others began to call out encouragement for the two, Varric personally adding that he'd be buying a bottle of the finest Orlesian brandy on the loser's tab. Fenris tugged his tunic over his head, resulting in a low wolf-whistle from Isabela that was followed by another as Anders dropped his trousers.

For a moment or two it was neck-and-neck, Fenris fighting with the buckles on his belt while Anders wrestled his boots off, and then the silver-haired elf clearly decided he would take wet clothes over losing to Anders and dove in, leggings and all, leaving Anders to stumble in behind, tripping over his own foot and landing face-first in the water.

Both men surfaced at the same time, spluttering water and coughing at their sudden entrance, shoving sodden hair from their eyes.

Anders huffed, "…I suppose I can't offer some other service instead of paying for drinks?"

The suggestions came quick and fast, Anders should have expected it, really;

"Oh! You can do all the cooking!" Merrill piped eagerly.

"Sing us a merry song with a jig, blondie!"

"Hold your head underwater until the bubbles stop?" Fenris growled, though it at least _sounded_ like he was joking.

Isabela's eyes lit up with lust, "Ohh, why don't you just _service_ all of us, lightning boy?"

Hawke couldn't help it, she began to laugh, it was loud and long and maybe a little hysterical after all the time they'd spent being miserable, but it was a blessed release and she couldn't make herself stop until her stomach ached and she had to cease her giggles or cease breathing.

As she righted herself, rubbing her happy tears away from her eyes and examining the group for reactions. Most of them _had_ been laughing too, she recalled the sound like music.

She cleared her vision a little more and saw the reason why they'd stopped, Fenris was standing mere inches in front of her, arms folded, hair dripping, and making his most intimidating face.

Maker help her, why did _that_ make her knees tremble? Oh, right, because Fenris was undeniably beautiful, even in a full formed rage. It wasn't helping the situation that his skin was exposed, so much more than he would ever usually allow, even if he had kept his trousers on, the lyrium tattoo vines that wove across his torso were a simply beautiful sight, accentuating muscles that had Hawke trembling with desire as well as some slight fear.

She swallowed hard, hoping he hadn't taken her laughter the wrong way, he was so easily offended sometimes, and with their nerves all being on knife-edge over the last few days she could see how the woman who claimed to love him nearly having a fit from laughing at him could have-

The corner of his mouth quirked up, just slightly, she had just a second to wonder what he was smirking at before his hand moved like lightning and swept what felt like a small wave of the slightly cold water over her. She let out a shriek that was more surprise than anything and then she was shoving him, aware that really, she had very little chance of knocking him off-balance, but smiling when she felt him obligingly fall back in the water, letting out one of his low, beautiful and rare laughs.

After that it all became a bit of a haze of joy for Hawke, a huge splash-fight erupted between her, Fenris, Anders, Bethany, Isabela and Merrill; Varric and the two former gaurds seemed content to watch this madness at a distance, with Varric claiming that short legs meant paddling was about the best they'd get out of him.

At one point in the midst of all this Hawke paused a moment to take a breath and felt a brush of a hand on the back of her breast-bindings, making her twist sharply in the water and seek out the culprit, only to see Fenris floating behind her looking vaguely confused.

"Fenris!" she hissed, cheeks burning, "Not _here_!"

He cocked his head to one side, "What? Not here what?" he questioned, only serving to confuse the Champion more, at least until Isabela surfaced with a gasp for air and a wide grin.

"Bela I will have your head!" Hawke shrieked giving chase to the Rivani, not that she had a hope of catching up, Isabela was a magnificent swimmer.

The pirate merely laughed lustily and called out, "Damn, I'll have to work at getting Fen's trousers off instead then!"

"Not while I have my strength you won't." Fenris muttered behind Hawke, before he dove beneath the lapping waters to hide away from the Pirate's advances.

All too soon the sun began to set and the waters grew too cold even for the hardier members of their group. It was a sodden but happy gang who crouched around the campfire that evening though, listening as they hadn't for weeks to one of Varric's tales of their own exploits, laughing at his exaggerations and exchanging knowing looks at the outright lies.

Hawke allowed herself a look around at them, her people, her family, taking in the sight of them so peaceful and happy and locking it away in her mind for the harder times. Avaline and Donnic, settled close to one another, hands grasped in the only public display of their affection they felt comfortable to make. Isabela with either arm slung loosely around Merrill and Anders, fingering their feathery shoulders and apparently muttering comments to make the two mages blush and laugh at the same time. Varric, sitting in the firelight and waving his hands emphatically at the exciting moments in the story. Dear, sweet Bethany sitting as close as she could to the dwarf with her knees pulled to her chest, eyes bright and fascinated to hear of all her sister had done when she was taken away.

And… and where was Fenris? Hawke wondered with sudden fright, terrified that while they'd been allowing themselves a night of rest, someone had broken in and taken him, an associate of Danarius perhaps? Come to exact a terrible revenge, or worse, just to steal away her beautiful elf and turn him back to the cowed slave he was before-

Strong arms curled around her from behind and Hawke found herself being gently but firmly pulled against a warm chest, seating her between thighs taut with muscle. She blinked in surprise at this sudden and unprecedented act; Fenris simply didn't hold her in public. It wasn't something which bothered her particularly, not when he would make up for it when they were alone. Yet, just in this moment, it felt like the most wonderful thing in the world for her lover to be holding her to his chest among their friends.

His head dropped forwards a little to rest on her shoulder and she felt him breathe in briefly, he always said he loved the smell of her hair, though Maker knew she hadn't washed it properly in what felt like weeks. He sighed gently through his nose and tilted his head slightly, Hawke blushed when she felt his lips chastely brush her cheek. Andraste's arse, she hoped this new, affectionate Fenris was here to stay.

She allowed her fingers to trace the lyrium vines on his forearms and hands, admiring the slight twitches in his muscles. His lips formed a slight smile against her cheek and she felt his deliciously deep voice whisper gently, "Te amo, pulchra."

Varric paused in his epic tale at that moment, apparently the first to spot what was occurring between their fearless leader and their resident broody elf. He let out a low laugh, "Broody, I'm going to have to re-name you Smiley soon if you're not careful."

Hawke tensed, waiting for Fenris to pull away, to huff in his embarrassed way and probably retreat to the tents for the night rather than face the smirks of their companions.

Fenris lifted his eyes and fixed Varric with a steady glare before grumbling, "Shut up, dwarf."

Hawke thought she might just burst from happiness when he then simply dropped his head back onto her shoulder and clutched her a little more tightly to his body. She felt the tension there and knew how hard he was fighting his urge to simply hide away as she had suspected he would. Maker's breath, what had she done to deserve someone who tried so hard for her?

"Ahh, I think they're sweet." Merrill cooed, pausing to observe the pair before adding in her usual curious, not connected to anything way, "You know, wolves mate for life."

Varric smirked from his place near the fire, "Wish I could." He quipped, bringing laughter to all but Merrill's faces.

The Dalish blinked, bewildered, at the circle and turned to Isabela, "Did I miss a dirty joke again?"

"I'll explain it later Kitten." Isabela replied with a wink. "What've wolves and their… habits got to do with anything anyway?"

"I believe she was referring to my name." Fenris rumbled from his position behind Hawke, "Fenris means wolf."

Isabela blinked, then smirked, "Oh, didn't know that. Damn, Hawke, he just got about fifty times more… interesting. Still not willing to share?" she winked one dusky eye. Hawke felt Fenris tense behind her, out of embarrassment or maybe anger that the pirate would make such a suggestion.

He needn't have worried, Hawke merely smiled wryly back to the pirate and snuggled closer to her elfin lover with a coo of, "Never."

Isabela pouted at this, but persisted with one last half-serious offer, "What if I got you drunk?"

Hawke didn't even look up from where she was nuzzling her head under Fenris' chin, "There's not enough alcohol in the world to make me let you touch my man."

"Ahhh, sister, you'll kill us with sweetness before much longer!" Bethany called across the flames.

"Sweetness is overrated, lets see some skin!" Isabela added, apparently deciding that if she really wasn't going to talk her way into their tent she may as well enjoy some teasing. "Come on lovebirds, give us a show the Blooming Rose would be proud of!"

Hawke rolled her eyes, meaning to fire a quip back, but stopped when she saw the faint blue glow appearing on the arms still curled protectively around her waist, heard the low growl in his throat.

Varric rescued the night with great skill, quickly and calmly he called out, "Ok, Broody's lit up, let's get back to the story before the fuse goes off!"

Remarkably, the teasing did stop, all eyes going back to Varric and his tale. Well, all but the eyes of Fenris and Hawke, of course, wrapped up in one another and feeling content for the first time in weeks.

The night wore on, one by one they went to their tents, Varric volunteering to take first watch 'to work on his stories in peace', Merrill, it seemed, had nodded off under the moonlight and Anders gallantly volunteered to see her safely to her bedroll, lifting the tiny elfin mage easily and carrying her towards the tents.

Hawke allowed a small sigh to escape her chest. The warm voice of her lover murmured into her ear, "Hawke?"

She could feel the unasked question, and purred, "I'm fine Fen, better than I have been for weeks." She nuzzled a little closer to his warmth, "It's nice to rest for a while, isn't it, with our friends?"

"Mmh." He hummed in agreement, then cleared his throat, speaking in that special voice she recognised from his reading lessons; "Though they carry nothing forth with them, yet in their entire journey they lack nothing. For where-ever they go, they be at home."

Hawke lifted her head slightly, "That's nice, is that from a book?" she remarked as she rose from her seat, brushing dust from her clothes. Of course she was pretty sure it was from a book, but he loved to demonstrate his new reading ability; like a child with a new toy.

Fenris nodded, easing himself upright after her; one of his knees gave a protesting crack at the movement but he ignored it, "Just a quote from some famous adventurer. I forget whom."

They moved as one towards their tent, and Hawke, feeling a little more daring with her beautiful elf, allowed her hand to drift over and grab his as they walked. Refusing to comment on the gesture, she continued their conversation as if she weren't clutching his palm tightly. "I'm home with all of you. You're my family." She sighed and turned her head towards the stars for a moment, "Brothers and sisters in battle, so to speak."

Fenris eyed her with his olive-green eyes, feeling a smile trying to break across his face; Maker, but she was beautiful in starlight. She thought _she_ was the lucky one, when they were clearly the ones who had all the luck in the world to have met her.

"Quam ego velim aliquando fratri." He murrmered.

"Hrm?" was her gentle reply.

"Nothing." He reached out to the tent flap and lifted it, allowing her to enter the warm canvas space. "Just thinking about families."

A/N: Translations courtesy of google. In order they are;  
1. _I love you, beautiful_

2. _I hope some day I am more than your brother_.

^^; I kinda think Fenris feels more comfortable saying all these things in a language Hawke can't understand, just until he's ready to say them to her for real.


	2. Happy Drunk

_A/N: :) hi again, this was intended to be a funny one but it turned fluffy all on it's own. X_X 'The Hedghog Song' comes from Terry Pratchett's 'Discworld' series, it just struck me as the sort of thing Isabela and Varric would know. I had an idea that as Fenris seems to have a knack for languages (speaks at least two, possibly three depending on how you count Qunari) it's not impossible that he would be good at accents..._

Fenris let out a low sigh, staring through the trees towards the road, figuring that one member of the group ought to try and keep some sort of watch, even on this lonely stretch of land.

The camp was a merry one tonight. A convenient bandit raid on the travelling party had resulted in them managing to relieve their attackers of their gold, their goods and their lives, not necessarily in that order. The bandits had been carrying a number of bottles of some curious spiced wine and by this late stage in the evening everyone present was delightfully tipsy.

Aveline and Donnic had already retired, claiming exhaustion but Hawke rather suspected (and confided to her elfin lover) they just didn't want to stick around and watch Isabela attempt to drunkenly seduce every man and woman present. Merrill hadn't been far behind the couple; rather amusingly Isabela had nodded sagely and commented only that it was past the little elf's bedtime anyway.

As for himself, he preferred to drink alone and had grabbed a bottle of the wine, slinking off to a hillock not far from the camp; only far enough for him to sit and think in comparative peace.

_Just where are we going to go?_

The thought weighed heavy on his mind, they'd fled Kirkwall in a mad dash, so wild that they hadn't even began to think about which direction to go in. Hawke herself had said that 'In this case, what we're running away _from_ is more important than where we're running _to.'_

True enough, he supposed, only now time had passed and it was becoming obvious that they would have to go somewhere; as skilled a group as they were, they couldn't live on the road forever.

Not that he would ever leave Hawke's side, he added internally; he'd follow her anywhere. Varric, on the other hand, was a city-dwarf, all this travel was wearing him down. Aveline and Donnic too; aside from anything else, what kind of life was this for a newly-wedded couple?

The Blood-mage, of course, was happy enough in the travels, she _skipped_ everywhere _and_ she'd started on trying to get him to embrace his 'elfishness' by chatting non-stop about the beauty and glory of nature.

Fenris took a deep swallow of the wine. Damn the blood mage.

He was an elf, yes, but that came second (in his mind) to being a man. Here was his fundamental problem with the Dalish girl; an elf was _who_ she was. To him, it was just his species, just a pair of pointed ears and high cheekbones. Just a slightly longer lifespan. Just a pair of what Isabela called 'pretty eyes'.

The fire was now playing host to Varric and Isabela's drunken caterwauling. Fenris was just a little too far from the group to work out the words but he could guess from the laughter and the tone that it was dirty. He tilted his head to try and make out the words;

"_The sheep is a classic, as well you may find, the llama's all right if he isn't too tall, the donkey's a danger for standing behind, but the hedgehog can never be buggered at all!"_

Fenris smirked and awarded himself ten points for being entirely accurate.

Not that he minded that, strictly speaking… well, he was used to those two by now. The elf smiled faintly to himself; if he was honest with himself, he rather liked the two rogues, filthy-minded and money-grabbing they may have been; but they were so very good at getting his mind off of his internal angst, making him smile and laugh, to behave like a free man.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned rapidly, markings lighting up instinctively and giving the small hillock a weird bluish-white glow, before the markings dimmed back down instantly at the sight of Hawke standing there.

She had her head on one side, one hand on her hip while the other held a bottle of their pilfered wine. He smirked a bit when he noticed she was wearing what appeared to be Varric's necklace as a strange sort of head-band.

"Room for two?" she cooed.

"Always." Fenris replied, shifting over a little and watching her walk over to take her place at his side. She stumbled a little on her last step and he reached out to catch her on reflex, making her tumbled onto his chest and laugh as if this was the funniest thing that had ever happened.

Lying there on the cool grass, stomach full of good wine and with a beautiful woman lying on top of him… Fenris wondered when he life had become this good.

"Where'd you get this?" He asked, fingering the necklace dangling in her eyes.

She grinned proudly back, "Won it off Varric, playing Never-have-I-ever." She licked her lips, "He said Never have I ever seen Broody smile." Hawke's emerald eyes brightened a bit as she laughed again, "An' I've seen you smile, laugh _and_ moan, so I drank and took his neck-thingy."

Fenris smirked. "Logical as always, Hawke. How drunk are you, precisely?"

Hawke's lips creased as she thought about this question. Clearly at this particular moment it was the most challenging one in the world. Finally she sighed, shrugged and laid her head down on his chest, choosing not to answer.

"Varric n' 'Bela are singing rude songs." Hawke purred drunkenly, "Corrupting my baby sister. So I thought I'd stop watchin and come cuddle my favourite elf."

Had he not been a little light-headed himself, Fenris might have commented that he rather doubted Bethany was being 'corrupted' (not if the looks he sometimes caught her giving him were anything to go by); but he was pleasantly warmed by the drink and her body, in no mood to antagonise her.

"Your favourite elf, eh?" he asked, ruffling and undoing her hair from the short and untidy ponytail she wore it in. Varric's necklace dropped off her head, forgotten. "And there I believed I'd been replaced by the Antivan assassin."

Hawke pulled a face, sticking her tongue out teasingly. "Are you going to get growly and jealous again?"

Fenris wasn't too proud to admit he grew jealous easily; when they'd met up with the handsome ex-Crow his beloved had worried him a little with her flirting. She was like that though, vivacious and charming in her way. Most people reacted with embarrassment, so she'd probably been pleased when the blonde elf responded in kind.

Anyway, a man like Zevran could probably consider a mere smile and a handshake an invitation to bed. The Antivan was extremely attractive, even Fenris had been able to see that; he probably got a million offers a day, to the point where he flirted back automatically.

For a moment they were both quiet, Hawke staring into Fenris' olive-green eyes as if trying to read his mind, then giggled and rolled off him onto the grass, "You're far superior, sweetheart, I like my men with some muscles, he was too skinny. And the accent would have got annoying eventually."

Fenris struggled to hold back the huge grin that threatened to claim his face. Secure as he felt with Hawke, it was nice to hear her speak so sweetly and highly of him. He hadn't yet got tired of her waxing lyrical about his voice, muscles, eyes, swordsmanship… he was fairly certain she was going to run out of things to compliment soon.

Feeling a little devil-may-care, he rolled over, propping himself over her on his elbows and bringing their lips together briefly and chastely. Drawing back slowly he raised one eyebrow before beginning to speak, in a perfect imitation of Zevran's artistic accent, "Chu mean dis accent, caramia?"

Hawke's lovely bright eyes widened momentarily, then she shrieked with laughter, "Maker, that's brilliant! I didn't know you could do voices!"

Fenris shrugged, tossing his head to move his silver fringe from his eyes, "I have a knack for languages; accents are easy."

Bringing a hand to her mouth to stifle her giggles, Hawke nodded, eyes flashing with mischief, "Can you do any others?"

Fenris titled his head momentarily, then spoke once more, this time with a husky, rough edge to his voice that Hawke usually only heard from her favourite dwarf;

"Hawke, glad you showed up! Tell these people how you killed that high dragon armed only with a stick!"

Hawke burst into another fit of giggles, shoving Fenris' chest lightly to make him roll off her and allow her to clutch her stomach while she laughed. "You have GOT to do that in front of him sometime, he'll laugh his short little arse off! Oh, oh! Can you do Merrill?" she babbled some of her words in her excitement.

Fenris shook his head, "Not accurately… but I can-" he cleared his throat and this time, Anders' cottony drawl left his lips, "-Do this. Blah blah, blah, rights for mages, blah, blah, I have a demon in my brain working the controls, Hawke, look at me, look at me, not the elf, I'm charming with a stupid ponytail!"

Hawke's laughed was slightly less this time, though she did still giggle and her eyes still sparkled. Evidently though, he'd touched the sore point because she lifted one hand from the grass to rest on his arm.

"Fen, seriously… Don't think I've forgiven him for what he did, I haven't. But I had to fight for my sister, you understand? To me this wasn't about Mages or Templars…" she paused, then laughed bitterly, "I just wanted to get everyone out of there alive. Only now I'm wondering if staying there and dying might have been a better option."

Fenris blinked, staring at this woman and wondering how she managed to bounce from mood to mood like that without suffering some sort of whiplash. He reached across his own body with the arm she wasn't stroking to take her small hand, lift it and kiss her knuckles gently.

The dam broke, she let out a stifled sob and fell against his chest, muted tears escaping her eyes and falling onto his armour. Between her chokes he gathered some of what she was trying to say, things about how much she wanted everyone to be safe, how much she _loved_ them all, how losing any of them after losing so many other people was just too much to ask of her, how she was so worried that they had no-where to go and soon they'd run out of places to run to...

He held her, stroking her shoulder length hair from time to time and wondering what on earth he was supposed to say, how was he supposed to make her feel better? Truthfully he was grateful they'd made it out alive; but he couldn't deny he'd been wondering where they'd go as well.

He let out a low sigh, feeling her sobs slow down and turn to mere shaky breathing, her body lying limply against his.

He could say anything, he realised. He could tell her he worried too, and they could bond over their fears. He could tell her he'd remain at her side for as long as she would allow, but maker, he was still too afraid to say those words to her, to tell her he loved her…

The elf fully admitted he was a coward when it came to matters of the heart, but he could at least be a considerate coward. He lifted her chin a little, only moving his hand from her chin when he was sure she would keep watching. He tried to crack a sly smile, flicked his head as if trying to toss hair much longer than his from his eyes, purred the words;

"Caramia, do not look so sad, eh? Smile for jour poor, unworthy Crow?"

Hawke's lips twitched, curling upwards slightly. "…You're going to be doing that all the time now, aren't you?"

Fenris shrugged, "Only if it makes you smile."

Hawke beamed, leaning forwards and kissing the elf gently, whispering against his lips, "_You_ make me smile."


	3. The Only Choice

A/N: X_X some more ludicrus fluff, I swear I can do plot-based things too! And Humor! Just... fluff... It calls to me...

"We are all friends here, right, Fenris? Even Merrill and Anders and Beth?"

Fenris hesitated slightly at this question, Hawke knew without looking that his eyes would be darting to and fro as if looking for an escape from this potential argument. Finally he let out a low sigh and replied, "…I… have no great hatred for your sister, she is strong, like you, and the Blood mage… I believe she has learned the dangers of her magic, she takes far greater care now than ever before."

Hawke lifted the tent flap and allowed Fenris to enter first, following him and letting the canvas drop them into the half-light of the canvas cocoon. Their bedrolls laid side-by-side, with their belongings on either side of the tent. It almost made her laugh, how much they'd become like a married couple since his return to her.

"What about…?" she let the question hang, they both knew who else there was to consider in their group. Her armour was released and folded into her pack; then she pulled her cotton under-shirt off and began to work at her belt, hearing him behind her, undressing himself. Funny how rarely they actually watched one another do that, usually they only saw one another undressing if they were caught in a sudden moment of passion and the task became less 'undress' and more 'rip one another's clothes off'.

"You know my feelings about the abomination." Fenris replied darkly.

Hawke rolled her eyes, "Today you were fighting side-by-side."

She listened to her elf hesitating at this point, while she undid her ponytail and brushed her hair, wincing at the knots she found. Finally he grumbled, "That was different, that was because you were there. I have fought alongside the abomination before because you asked it. That you hold such sway over me does not mean I have to change my opinion on him."

Hawke shook her head to herself. All right, true enough. She'd known from the start that Fenris and Anders only stopped themselves from killing one another because she wouldn't like it. Still, it was annoying that after all this time they still couldn't-

"Rrgh."

She turned quickly to face Fenris at the low grunt of pain, observing him clutching his right leg, in clear pain. She darted across the tent to him, eyes alight with concern. "Fen?"

"Cramp." Fenris grunted back, "It will pass."

"Oh sit down, you ridiculous…" Hawke muttered, leading the man to sit on his bedroll without much protest. "It'll never go away with you tensing up like that." She huffed, like a mother with a small child, and hurried to where she'd dropped her pack earlier. A moment later and she returned to his side, a small jar in her hand.

Fenris eyed her suspiciously, "It will pass." He protested again, without much conviction.

"It'll pass faster my way, now be a good boy and let me see." She spoke with such command that he obeyed unthinkingly, releasing his death-grip on his own calf muscle and watching her kneel by his side. The top was tugged from the jar and he watched her scrape a generous amount of something viscous onto her fingers.

"It's muscle rub." She explained, noticing his wide-eyed stare, "And I know, you don't really like being taken care of, but I like taking care of you, so shush and let me, ok?"

Fenris narrowed his eyes, but obligingly leant back onto his bedroll, wincing as his leg protested with sharp jabs of pain. She knelt before him and raised one eyebrow, "If you want to be useful you can undo that belt."

He obeyed, lifting his hips to allow her to tug down his leggings. The salve smelled sharp, of metal and fresh rain.

Hawke started to massage the salve into his bare thigh, an action that in any other situation would have been intensely arousing. Were it not for the sharp painful stabs he would have been tempted to ask her to move the massage… well, further up, and more inwards.

He tried to focus on something else, nostrils' flaring slightly as he tried to identify the ingredients of whatever she was rubbing into his leg. "Elfroot."

"Always, standard cure-all." She muttered in reply.

"…Foxite?" he suggested, their guessing-game being a small pleasure of his. It had been a habit they developed in happier days, back when he was guessing the scent of her perfume or shampoo. Such things were too much of a luxury out here.

"You've been reading potion books." She answered, eyebrows raising a little, small smile on her lips. "That or you're getting too good at this."

"Elves have a good sense of smell." He replied, shrugging, "I suppose had I grown up in the woodlands like the Blood mage I would have no problem identifying any number of plants." He huffed slightly, the potion beginning to take effect and numb the pains. He watched this beautiful amber-haired creature kneeling over him and tending to him in a way he'd never dared hope for in Tevinter.

"Maker, Hawke, you are kind." He muttered, "Too much so. I might be tempted to take advantage of your good nature."

Hawke's head jerked up, emerald eyes (so much brighter than his own), glittering with mirth. "Men have tried before. If you like, I'll show you where the bodies are buried on a map."

Fenris laughed deep in his throat, "You know, I'm surprised you didn't say better men than me have tried and failed."

Her hand abrubtly stopped movement. Fenris blinked at her in confusion, wondering what he'd said; her face held no answers, only a look of mild surprise painted her features.

Her voice sounded… off when she spoke again; "Fenris, there is no better man. Not for me anyway. You're…" she shuddered, and then stood, marching to the tent flap. Outside, rain was pattering against the canvas tent and making the earth sodden.

"Hawke?" he muttered lowly, then rose and followed her, ignoring his protesting muscles. He leant one arm over her on the wooden frame holding their tent up and lifted his free hand to toy with the messy end of her ponytail, "Cicaro, what is it?"

She breathed out slowly, releasing something she wasn't aware she'd been holding. "Fen… for me, there is no other choice. I'm not sure there ever was… all right, I flirt with everyone because it makes them smile and maybe it makes me feel good too; the thing is though…" she paused, then shook her head, "I don't know how to say things like this… it's like…" she waved her hands helplessly at the air, as if she could catch the words she was looking for. Finding none she turned back to the silver-haired elf, "When I was little, I wanted a prince to come riding onto the farm to sweep me away on his white charger and make me a princess, the perfect little girl's dream, you know?"

Fenris didn't really understand, but he nodded because it seemed she wanted him to.

Folding her arms, the rogue went on, "And then Beth and Carver came along and there wasn't time for dreaming. I grew up, got older and if not wiser, more reckless. I started thinking my prince could go shove it, I'd never be happy in fancy dresses anyway. I wanted a knight, someone with a sword and the smell of blood in his hair." She smiled faintly at some memory.

"A Templar?" Fenris suggested, for something to say.

Hawke nodded. "For a while, that was my dream man. Then father died and the blight and… and Carver…" she closed her eyes. "…I wish you'd met him. He was a warrior too, blasted fool decided to take an ogre head-on."

Fenris patted her arm, "I am sure he was a fine man. He would have to be, I doubt you'd let him be anything else."

Hawke smiled. "Mmh. But I'm diverting. After all that tragedy, after seeing the Knights and the Templars all scattered like idiots... I realised how helpless they were with no leader. And it came to me that if I didn't want a Prince to coddle me or a Knight to obey me, what I really, truly needed was simply a free man." She smiled again, lighting up Fenris' heart. "Someone who makes his own choices, battles for himself and his friends, beholding to no-one. Still with a sword, but no damn crown or cross on it."

Fenris nodded, he was fighting the urge to pull her to his chest and kiss her, wanting to hear the rest of what she had to say. "And?"

Hawke laughed, flicking her fringe from her eyes, "You know what happened. I came to Kirkwall, land of the free, so they say. I met an elf, an ex-slave." She licked her lips, "He was… the most powerful personality I'd ever met."

She moved away from the door then, back towards their bedrolls, flopping down onto hers with a contented sigh. "I'd been looking for a free man and there he was, you, Fenris. You who will never have to answer to any master but yourself, you whose chains were branded into him and yet you broke them anyway. You were and always have been the freest man it's been my good fortune to know." She paused, watching his smile. "But more than that, Fen, I got to know you better, do you remember? You must have been so annoyed at how I always wanted you to fight with me, even on missions when I needed no warrior?"

Fenris crossed the tent floor and settled beside her. "I… admit at times you confused me, why would you need a sword when gathering flowers for a potion?"

Hawke laughed gently, "Mm… and when I got to know you like that, I started to see that you weren't just a free man, you were a knight. A knight with no King to serve, maybe, but you had all the other traits. Strong, noble, painfully honest and true-hearted." She nodded to the red material tied around his wrist, "That's why I gave you that. A lady's favour to her favourite knight… that night with you… I felt like that silly sixteen-year-old all over again."

Fenris blushed, turning away as he always did when she talked of that night, so many years ago now. He still felt a coward and a cad for how he'd left her, more so now she'd told him this, that she harboured so much caring for him even then... and he'd thrown it away for three years, too scared to allow the pain in return for the happiness she could have given.

"Don't look like that, sweetheart." She bade him gently, "It's in the past; I forgave you long ago." she leant across the space between them and kissed his cheek gently. "And that night… when you came back and told me you were sorry, begged my forgiveness… when you swept me up in your arms and we…"

Fenris' cheeks burned, "Hawke, I know what happened." He muttered.

She smirked, cheekily, "All right, shy one. When we went into that last battle you begged me not to die; then did everything in your power to prevent me from falling."

Fenris coughed, this being true enough, he could still recall how he'd turned as he felled one of the bronze slaves only to see Hawke, isolated from the others, taking on one of the other statues while a monstrous gate guardian rose behind her, about to crush her in one mighty blow.

He'd crossed the battlefield with a speed he'd never since matched and caught the thing's attack on his own blade, throwing it back then growling at her to be more careful.

She was blushing now, he never understood how she could keep smiling when her face burned like that, "Ok, there wasn't a white horse and there no fancy frocks, which I'm glad about, but Prince Charming showed up, no mistake."

Fenris wasn't sure what to say to this; for a moment all he could do was clear his throat and stare at his own feet. She saved him having to speak by shifting across to rest against his side, her head on his shoulder.

"I've embarrassed you now, haven't I?" she cooed, "But that's the only way I can explain it, you're the only one I could love like this because you're all of the things I've ever wanted." She paused, then laughed, "I suppose I could have just said that, couldn't I?"

Fenris swallowed the embarrassment he was feeling at her heartfelt confession, moving his arm around her thin body. "Mmh, you never use one word when fifteen will do the job." He remarked wryly.

"How about this then; I love you."

He faltered slightly, some residual fear of the idea of… giving himself to someone that much was screaming at him to flee. He fought it, as he had so many other things. Hawke deserved better than a man afraid of his own feelings, she at least deserved a man who would say the words back to her in a language she could understand.

"I love you too, Marian." He whispered, almost hoping she wouldn't hear. "I might not always be able to say so, but I would have you know I do."

She did. She spent most of that night demonstrating just how grateful she was to hear those words from him at last.

His injury? Long forgotten.


	4. Flowers

**A/N: :) Some Merrill-centricness, she's darling, I love her to bits. _Amica= _Sweetheart, courtsey of google translate.**

Merrill was dancing again. Hawke rather enjoyed watching it; it was a pleasant break from the endless trees and grass. Hawke _hated_ forests; too much green, just trees and grass. She hated not being able to see where she was going.

To see the little Dalish girl skipping and twirling happily along the path, a little way ahead of the companions was something though.

_Maker, Elves are graceful in their element_. She thought to herself, Merrill was clumsy on cobblestoned streets, but out here her feet barely touched the ground, only long enough to allow her to spring and twist in mid-air like a green-scarved dandelion seed caught in the summer wind. Hawke turned her head slightly, glancing over her shoulder to where their party's _other_ elf was walking, huge sword on his back and customary scowl on his face.

He was a different sort of elf, she supposed. He seemed to hate the woodlands, but in the midst of battle there was no-one who could match the grace of his movements. He shouldn't have looked so delicate while spinning a huge blade about him, making the air red with blood.

He caught her look and raised an eyebrow, "Yes, amica?"

She nodded in the direction of Merrill, feeling no need to elaborate further. Her beloved's large moss-green eyes lingered on the skipping elf for a moment, then he snorted, "She still delights in making a fool of herself."

"Oh, I think she's sweet." Isabela remarked, "Just because she knows how to be happy, grumpy-guts." The pirate woman nudged one elbow against Fenris' side playfully.

"I do know how to be happy. I _am_ happy." He protested.

"Could have fooled me Broody, only time I've ever seen you smile is when you've got an armful of Hawke." Varric added his opinion to this discussion, making all but Fenris and Hawke herself snigger. Oh, and Merrill of course, too far ahead of the group to hear.

She kept picking flowers and leaves too, twining them into her braids.

On this occasion she stopped, plucking a number of tiny, pretty white blossoms from a vine growing among the trees. She scurried back to the group, all smiles; "Oh look! I found some Ivy flowers!" she giggled and with a few deft movements of her skilled little hands the blossoms became a chain, which the elf promptly dropped over Bethany's head, "Ivy flowers for our sweet Bethany, so she'll find herself a good man!"

Bethany turned red, glancing around the group wildly before stammering out, "W-what?! Merrill why on earth… I'm not even thinking about… what have flowers got to do with that anyway?!"

Merrill blinked, looking suddenly sheepish, "Oh, I'm sorry, is that offensive? Only in the clans, we use flower garlands to show messages and such… young unmarried girls wear ivy to show the men they're looking for a husband…" the small Dalish girl looked up and around at the group shyly, "and I thought you might be getting jealous of Aveline and your sister, so…"

The sadness and embarrassed nature of her words brought instant sympathy, Bethany letting out a small laugh and stroking the necklace with one hand, mumbling, "Oh, no, it's not offensive Merrill, they're lovely… just…" she sought for an excuse as to why she shouldn't have to be wearing such a strange token, "Well I'm hardly likely to find a husband here am I? Look at the choices!" she waved a hand to the group, "Donnic's married, Anders and I would drive each other insane, Varric only has eyes for Bianca and if I touched Fenris my sister would turn me into an elaborate pin-cushion."

Behind the girl, Varric smirked, muttering something like, "Ah Sunshine, should Bianca ever lose interest you're first on my list."

Fenris grunted in vague annoyance that they were stopping for something so frivolous.

Merrill smiled weakly, "I suppose… but you never know, doesn't hurt to advertise, does it? Perhaps we'll run into some other travellers!" she titled her head curiously; then let out a laugh, "Oh, I'll make garlands for all of us; This forest is rich with flowers!"

Before any of the women could protest, she was off, skipping along the path and twirling now and then. Hawke sighed to herself, thinking that suddenly the dancing looked a lot more threatening. She hoped to god the elf-girl would run out of steam before getting to her wreath.

Isabela smirked, "Two silvers say she comes back with and entire uprooted tree for Aveline."

"Shut up, whore." Aveline muttered. "Maker only knows what you'll get, is there a plant called Wanton lust?"

Isabela's eyes lit up with mirth, "Oh I hope so! Anyway why are we talking about this when it'd be more fun to speculate what she'll bring back for Hawke?"

Hawke's lips thinned in annoyance and she tried to keep the party walking, she _really_ hated forests.

An hour or two later and Aveline had been gifted with a garland of Cedar flowers (Meaning strength, apparently) and Isabela had a ring of Gloryflowers around her neck (apparently meaning glorious beauty, a sentiment that had the pirate queen blushing). Hawke was praying to the Maker the elf girl's next project wasn't going to be hers, each 'gift' had resulted in Merrill giving an odd little commentary on the person receiving.

"_Strength for Aveline, not just physical, of course, because you're really powerful and you utterly refuse to allow anyone to rule you, even your husband! I didn't know marriages could be like that. And of course you've got a strong heart, I don't think anyone will ever hurt us if we have you."_

"_They mean glorious beauty, Isabela… I did think about getting passionflowers but I thought that might be offensive to shems… so I thought I'd compliment how you're so beautiful and dark and wonderful. I feel such a shrinking violet next to you, and all the women here, really… but especially you… oh! Was that mean to the others? I'm sorry!"_

Hawke could see the girl was trying to be nice, in her usual socially inept way but she just didn't want to be told about what a great leader she was, how strong and wise, because she wasn't. A wise leader wouldn't have lead them out into the wilderness with no plan.

She didn't want to be told how beautiful she was either. Fair enough she loved hearing it from Fenris, but that was… well that was _Fenris_. From Merrill it would sound too much like her mother telling her she was lovely-looking and why _couldn't_ she wear a dress sometimes? Or at least tidy her hair up? Or worse it would lead to Hawke having to pat Merrill on the head and tell her again and again that she _was_ a pretty little thing, she didn't look like them because she was an _elf_, not because she was unattractive.

Damn, she was skipping back again with a handful of blossoms being rapidly turned into a circlet. A small one, Hawke noted; more like a bracelet than a necklace, one of pale pink flowers speckled with yellow dots. Quite pretty really, Hawke almost considered holding out her arm to accept the gift.

"For Bianca!" Merrill chirped, hurrying past Hawke without a second look and dropping the garland onto Varric's weapon, it fit snugly around the barrel, "Alstroemeira flower, meaning loyalty and devotion. May Bianca never stray from your side." The dalish did a little mock curtsey to the dwarf, who laughed deeply and shook his head.

"Daisy, you're too kind… Bianca approves." He paused, seeming to genuinely admire the ring of blossoms on his crossbow, then his _wicked_ eyes shot up to land on Hawke's face. "Now why don't you go and make a pretty bunch of flowers for the last lady in our group? I think she's feeling left out." he nodded towards Hawke.

"Oh yes!" Merrill squeaked, delighted by this suggestion, "I'll have to make a special one for Hawke though! It might take a while!" she beamed and turned, running on ahead of the group.

Hawke rolled her eyes, glaring back at Varric, "I swear Varric, if she brings me something like nettles because they make her laugh or poison oak because I cheat at cards, I'm holding you responsible."

"Not a fan of flowers then Hawke?" Isabela remarked, moving forward in the party to walk at their leader's side. Her fingers toyed the petals on her own blooming necklace.

Hawke shrugged, "Not so much that, they've got their place; it's just not around my neck and not with a running commentary on the way I live."

"Hah, I suppose you'd be happier with a new set of armour" Aveline remarked. "Or maybe daggers?"

"I prefer practical presents." Hawke agreed, nodding to the ex-Guard Captain.

"I suspect if the flowers were coming from a _different_ elf Hawke would wear them all day and be proud as a queen to have them."

Anders' voice sounded strange as he spoke, truthfully he hadn't been doing a lot of speaking since they left Kirkwall. He was… different now, swinging between his usual happy self and sudden bouts of morose silence. The group were finding it best to simply ignore 'sad Anders' and jump on the opportunities to keep 'cheerful Anders' around. Excepting Fenris, who seemed happy enough to let the mage wallow in self-pity.

But this time… he sounded so downcast while saying something that normally would have been a simple, playful joke at their leader's expense. He'd spoken like a man whose heart was shattered. It was no great secret that he'd carried a flame for Hawke for quite some time, but even she herself had thought him past that by now. She'd thought his sadness was all down to the deed he'd done, and most of it probably was, but it can't have been helped by him watching her and Fenris together.

When he spoke like that, it was only too plain the torch was still being carried. Even the warrior elf looked a little sorry for the mage.

The awkward silence was thankfully broken by Isabela, sensing a need to lighten the mood and always happy to oblige she purred, "Oh that's true, perhaps Fen ought to go skipping off up the path to pick her a ring of flowers?"

"Flowers nothing, if he's going to give her a ring it better be made of something more substantial than flowers." Bethany added, nudging her sister with her staff. "Papa would turn in his grave at anything else."

Fenris' hand twitched, aching to grab his sword and make this line of teasing stop before it got on to talk of children running around his feet, children with a mass of ruby-red hair and pointed ears… his stomach churned at the thought.

Not that the idea of marrying Hawke was without appeal… certainly he could see the good side to her wearing a ring that would stop any other man from ever making an advance on her, something there to mark her as _his_… but it was foolish to wish for that much. He was grateful for what the Maker had allowed him now, to be the one she loved, to hold her tightly at night, breathe in the smell of her hair and love her with every ounce of his being-

He blinked himself out of this reverie, aware suddenly that the blood mage had returned to the group with a ring of bright red flowers in her hands. She was holding them out to _him_ though. He stared at her, baffled.

Merrill tilted her head, "You weren't listening, were you?" she pouted slightly. "I said _you_ have to give these to Hawke."

"Me?"

Merrill rolled her eyes as if _he_ was the one being stupid. "They're Chrysanthemums! _I_ can't give them to her! I mean, of course we all love Hawke but these are for the deeper sort, you know, the puppy-eyed, cuddling, strange noises from the tents at night sort of love."

Behind them, Isabela burst into a fit of laughter, Varric tried to hide his own mirth with a cough. Well, only Merrill, with her innocent little way, could have said that and not been impaled on a broadsword.

Fenris turned red to the tips of his ears, "I… it… there are no puppy eyes and… and what occurs in the tent is none of your business!" he babbled a bit, obviously flustered.

Merrill nodded, "Oh fine, have it your way, but it still ought to be you who gives her them. It'll mean more from you."

Fenris' face was getting darker with every second, and the others sniggering was starting to get louder. He grunted and seized the blossoms from Merrill's hands and thrust them towards Hawke, whose own face was a mask of crimson. She took them and quickly threw the circle around her neck, to appease the Dalish elf as much as anything.

She smiled innocently. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it? Really, sometimes it's like pulling teeth to make you two act like a couple. It doesn't hurt you know… well, it might crack Fenris' face." She giggled, "Honestly, you two must spend hours arguing when we're not around."

"…We must?" Hawke asked, baffled. Once upon a time she and Fenris had argued a lot, she admitted. Mostly over mages, but these days they were too tired of the whole debate, it seemed a waste to spend their time together arguing.

Merrill nodded, "Well, if all that shouting in the tent at night is any indication." The girl smiled sweetly, "So perhaps some flowers will make you be nicer to each other, eh?" she chirped and then skipped off ahead.

Hawke was fairly certain that not only was her face going to burn off from blushing, but also that the rest of her party were going to die laughing if they didn't stop it, right this second. Varric was holding his stomach and Isabela was hanging on to a tree to stop herself hitting the floor.

Fenris glowered at the path ahead, skin lighting up with annoyance. "Hawke..."

"I know, I know." She grumbled, "She means well." She reached up to toy with the red blossoms resting on her chest. "Let's go another mile then make camp for the night."

That night Merrill entertained the group with songs and stories of the Dales, evidently the forest was putting her in a sharing mood. They allowed her gentle, lilting tones to fill the night air; as Varric said, she was socially inept and naïve as a new-born but she had a soothing voice and knew how to tell a good story.

Hawke's flower garland had been mysteriously 'lost' as soon as it was decent to hide the thing in a bush. Merrill had been most upset, claiming she'd make a replacement, despite Hawke's protests of not wanting to bother the girl with something so silly. Luckily they'd made camp before anymore flowers could be found; by morning Merrill would probably have lost interest.

Fenris and the woman in question sat a little further away from the fire, and prying eyes, than usual, within sight but out of earshot, happier with one another's company for the night. Surpirisngly there were none of the usual teasing comments from the ragtag group tonight; they were getting used to their fearless leader and grumpy elf being wrapped up in one another, besides after that afternoon's events it was understandable that they'd be embarrassed.

If any of the party had been looking they would have seen the silver-haired elf reach to a pocket on his belt and lift out a small, red blossom, offering it to the lady at his side. They would have seen her smile gently, reaching to take it from his hand and tucking it into some recess on her armour. Out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

A single flower could mean so much more than a huge bouquet; from the right person.


	5. Dropping In

**A/N: Hey look! Some plot! May I say right now I've not actually played Origins, am waiting for some money so I can get the game, so there may be some inaccuracies, apologies for those. ^^;**

"You know, Bethie, you really ought to let me do your hair sometime."

Isabela's seemingly random comment had all of the bathing women looking up in surprise. They'd found a stream in their wanderings through the seemingly endless wood and Hawke, fed up with dirt under her nails and in any number of other crevices, had ordered the men in their party to 'Go hunting or climbing or something else manly' and leave the girls to bathe.

It wasn't really deep enough for them to submerge themselves, but the clean water was a blessing no matter how deep, and they were improvising with cloths and cups to rinse their hair. Isabela had produced a cake of soap from her own supply (Hawke didn't ask where the pirate had acquired it, but she noticed the symbol of a noble household of Kirkwall stamped into it) and the women had been intensely grateful for it.

Now Bela was sitting on the bank, Merrill leaning back between the Pirate's firm thighs as she had her hair re-braided. Aveline, the most self-conscious of them, was already back in her linen under-clothes and brushing her thick copper hair. Bethany and Hawke themselves, however, were still in the waist-deep water, finishing off their ablutions.

Bethany blinked, "Why's that Izzy? What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing sweet thing, but come on, if you're going to land yourself a man you've got to bring your 'A' game!" Bela winked lustily at the blushing mage.

Bethany groaned, "This again? What on earth is it with you women? I'm not looking for a husband just yet! Anyway Bela, you're single. So's Merrill!"

Isabela shrugged, "Technically I was married so I'm allowed to give advice, as senior matron of the group."

"Didn't you have him assassinated?" Hawke commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't spoil my argument with trifling matters like logic," Isabela replied, "And don't you worry about my little kitten," she patted Merrill's short locks, "Once I've got you set up it's her turn next."

Hawke rolled her eyes, smiling at this conversation and not particularly worried by it. Yes, she was protective of her baby sister, but really, they were travelling through what had to be the most deserted woodland in Thedas, she was hardly likely to meet a random man who'd sweep her off her feet _here_.

"I suppose in a moment you'll claim you had a hand in all our relationships?" The Champion commented, squeezing a soaked cloth of water over her head to rinse away the soap suds.

Isabela nodded, "Of _course_. I dare you to prove me wrong, Hawke! We _all_ helped with Big girl and Big man."

Aveline turned red, her freckles vanishing under a blush. "Shut up whore… besides, aren't I the senior married woman here? I've been married twice after all…"

"Yes but you still can't talk to men without blushing so I win." Isabela replied without a moment of pause. Her eyes flashed darkly back to Hawke, "And as for you and that sexy glow-toy of yours…"

It was Hawke's turn to blush, lowering her voice slightly as she snapped, "Oh shut up Bela, you can't seriously think you had a hand in that." She slowly climbed from the stream and grabbed a dry cloth, rubbing herself dry.

The pirate queen nodded, "You're damn right I do! I was the one who suggested we play 'guess the colour of Hawke's underclothes' that time in the Hanged man, god, I thought he'd melt! You should have seen how much he was glowing at the idea of _you_ in undies. And I was the one who told you about how sensitive elf-ears are." She laughed and for demonstration, pinched Merrill's left ear at the tip; the elf girl let out a shriek.

"Oh, you are wicked Isabela!" Merrill whimpered.

Isabela nodded proudly, "Glad you noticed, now we've established I'm the best at this, I say again, Bethany needs to let me dress her up sometime."

Bethany let out a long-suffering sigh, following her sister from the water and re-dressing, "Not to put too fine a point on it, but who for? All the men we're travelling with either have no appeal for me, are married, in love with their weapons or quite possibly going to end up as my brother in law." She pulled a face, wrinkling up her cute little nose. "It's not like I'm going to have a full dance card no matter how much cleavage and leg you have me showing."

Isabela pouted, standing to dress herself, Merrill following suit. "Oh, you wound me, you forgot to mention how much of that glorious arse I'd have showing as well."

Bethany squeaked and turned redder still.

Isabela appeared not to notice, lacing up her corset with practised ease, "You Hawke girls are so pretty, I wish I'd had dollies like you when I was little."

Aveline rolled her eyes, "I can't imagine you ever playing with something as innocent as dolls, whore."

"We were all young once, prude." Isabela replied, throwing an arm each around Bethany and Merrill, "Now come on, my little innocents, let auntie Bela doll you up, eh?"

Merrill's hands twisted in her robe, "Oh I don't know that there's a lot you could do with me… I've not really got your beauty…"

"Oh stop that Merrill, you're darling." Hawke cut in quickly, sensing a Merrill-monologue if she wasn't stopped. "I'm sure there's any number of men who'd adore you. Or women. Elf or human, come to that."

They were approaching their camp now. Hawke was pleased to note that the men's 'manly hunt time' had not been spent in vain and there was a fine hunk of venison roasting over the fire. At the sound of their approach the males heads rose, Donnic and Fenris greeting the sight of their women returning with barely disguised delight.

"Oh, why don't we ask then?" Isabela declared suddenly, glancing around at the men before chirping out loudly, "Ok lads, settle an argument for me, should I be allowed to tart up Merrill and Bethy a bit? Just in case some nice single guys come riding out of the woods looking for conquests?"

By the fire, Anders choked on his drink and Varric started chuckling lowly, "Bela, you're not going to corrupt my Daisy and Sunshine?"

"Who said anything about corrupt?" Bela replied, looking offended as Aveline and Hawke drifted to sit by their men. "I'm just suggesting I'm allowed to teach them how to display some of their finer points!"

Fenris rolled his eyes, "Or you want to put them in outfits like yours because your idea of seduction is letting men see your chest."

Isabela raised one eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips and bending forwards slightly, on the surface of it to meet Fenris' eyes. In a low and saucy tone she cooed, "Oh, you noticed my breasts then, glowy?"

Fenris' eyes momentarily widened, then he turned away, cheeks burning and lips drawn into a scowl.

Isabela laughed, then stood up, returning her attention to the two 'unattached' girls, "Come on sweet things, at least let me do it to relieve the boredom!" she paused, then added with a sly look, "Come on Bethie, don't tell me you're not even a bit jealous of big sister?"

Bethany rolled her eyes, settling herself under a nearby tree, "No, Bela… look, even if I did want to let you do my hair and shorten my skirt and maker knows what else, it's not as if me making the effort will cause the perfect man to drop right in front of me."

In the tree above the female mage, a branch snapped. The noise was just enough of a warning to have every member of the party reaching for their weapons. A loud curse word was called and a body came tumbling out of the tree to land with a loud thud right in Bethany's lap at the same moment as a dozen hands seized weapons.

In seconds the shape had been flipped from the girl and the mysterious tree-dweller had nine weapons pointing at his chin. His hands shot up in a gesture of surrender on instinct; his mouth already starting to form some sort of time-buying phrase that would allow him to grab the blades on his own back.

For a moment the group and the man eyed one another.

He smiled, it was a full-lipped, saucy smile which spoke of warm evenings and fine wine. "Well, Champion, it appears you have me at jour mercy again. Care to take me prisoner and man-handle me?" he paused, eyeing the rest of her people, "De offer also extends to your charming companions, incidentally." He purred, winking around at them.

Isabela smirked. "Chance would be a fine thing."

Hawk started to laugh, lowering her blades and offering a hand to the tanned elf, "Zevran! What the hell are you doing up a tree in the arse-end of nowhere?" she cried, glancing around at the others, Isabela and Varric were already sheathing their weapons, she noted. Well, all rogues together, she supposed.

"This is Zevran, remember? The assassin on the run?" she prodded their memories, Aveline and Donnic's swords were replaced in scabbards, Anders staff tucked back into its bindings.

Hawke nodded and turned to her sister, "You haven't met, suffice to say we were supposed to capture him and take him in to the man hunting him and…" Hawke smirked, trailing off as Zevran purred out;

"Ah, and dis beautiful woman chose to spare my life… and for no more reward than a smile from my beautiful pouty lips, eh?" he winked.

"I can't help but notice he's not answered your first question." Fenris snarled, his own blade still unsheathed, he jabbed the sharp tip against the Antivan's back, just in warning. "What are you doing here, assassin?"

Zevan glanced over his shoulder, apparently noticing the blade at his back for the first time, "Oh, put that away my friend, you're impressing no-one with the size of your sword, magnificent as it is." The amber-skinned elf winked.

Fenris' tattoos lit up in rage, but he lowered the sword.

Zevran cleared his throat, nodding to himself, "Well, if you must know, I was hired to find the Champion…" he noted the look on her companion's faced and their sudden moves towards their weapons, and waved his hands quickly, "No, no! My friends, not in my capacity as an assassin! I am also a great tracker." He lowered his eyelids, grinning at Hawke again, "And fantastic at massages, if you're wondering. I am a man of many, many talents. But I digress… there's a lot of people looking for you, Champion."

Hawke sighed, brushing a hand over her shoulder and removing one of her twin daggers, toying with the blade in an almost innocent way. "Oh, I suspected as much. So who hired you? The Templars, the Circles or the Chantry? I suspect they all want their pound of flesh."

Zevran shook his head, "Not a bit of it, Lady Hawke. You have friends in high places, it seems. The charming and handsome King Alistair himself sent me to find you and deliver this message." He paused, clearing his throat to make sure he had all their attentions. "You and your friends are offered sanctuary in Fereldan. He cannot openly make this offer, hence sending me, but if you come he will see to it that no further harm is done to you or your people."

There was a long silence.

Hawke looked rather… shell-shocked. In a rare moment of real concern Fenris muttered, "Marian?"

Hawke appeared to swallow hard. Her voice sounded dry. "Sanctuary? Really? For all of us?"

Zevran glanced around at the group, "I do not think he expected you to have so many, but yes. All you have to do is get there." He paused, then added, "I could offer my services as a guide there, another of my many talents."

Hawke didn't answer for a moment or two more, then glanced to her companions, recalling the last time she'd had to ask their opinions like this had been… been back in Kirkwall, and it had been a choice over Anders life.

"What do you think, everyone?" she asked softly. "Some of us, me included, come from there originally so we have something to go back to, not that we _have_ to go back, it's still your choice… but for the rest of you it'd mean starting all over in a foreign country…"

The group glanced around at one another.

Aveline shrugged her broad shoulders, "Ah, I was planning on going back one day anyway."

Donnic nodded agreement, "It sounds lovely in your tales, my dear."

"Ah, what's starting over with nothing again? It'll only be the eighth or ninth time." Varric added.

Anders let out a low sigh, "I suppose there's nothing really left for me here."

"Hell, if it gets us out of this forest and into a ship I'm game." Isabela agreed, eyes already brightening at the idea of a ship beneath her feet again.

Merrill's lilting voice joined theirs, "Are there still forests and meadows and things there? It's been so long since I saw Ferelden meadows."

Hawke smiled, nodding just barely, she was having trouble believing their acceptance of this offer, she'd felt sure this would be the moment when they'd be scattered like the nine winds. She swallowed and glanced to Fenris, her eyes asking the question her mouth couldn't form.

He didn't hesitate one second, "I remain at your side, where-ever that might be."

Hawke beamed, turning quickly to her sister, "And you, Beth?"

Bethany smiled and gave her sister a quick but reassuring hug. "As if you'd get rid of me so easily. Let's go home, Marian, our real home."

Hawke felt a warm, happy tear run down her cheek, she turned her head quickly towards Zevran, hoping he was enough of a gentleman not to point out the sudden emotional tightness in her voice she spoke softly, "All right, you're hired. Guide away."


	6. Thicker than Water

"_Seth'lin."_

Fenris' ears twitched, but he did not turn around, that would be playing into their hands.

They were taking shelter for a few days in a Dalish camp, normally they would have avoided even this small pool of civilisation; but their supplies had dwindled far more rapidly since Hawke had taken the decision that they should travel as fast as possible to Ferelden. They needed the food and the protection of a crowd, she claimed.

All good thinking, but he would have felt safer among a crowd of humans than here, among what were technically his own kind.

He could see Hawke's thinking; it was far easier to disguise humans as elves than the other way around. Of the three elves in the group only Zevran was likely to be able to pass as a human, and even then only by pinning his hair over his ears and with a hooded cloak to hide his features.

So they'd found themselves the nearest Dalish clan, following Zevan's remarkable instinct for tracking and Merrill's vague knowledge of clan travelling patterns. Hawke had approached the Keeper and thrown herself on the man's mercy. He'd considered, eyeing the strange group with deeps suspicion, but eventually he'd nodded sagely and agreed to let them rest a few days.

Funny, really, Fenris thought, the clan didn't even appear to see his markings. Still, most of them had their own blood-writing, perhaps they assumed his were just of a different sort of ink.

The plan was that if anyone came to the clan searching for the champion and her people they would merely find that there were some slightly taller, stockier elves than were normally seen. He and Zevran were borrowing the green tunics and leggings of hunters within the clan (though Fenris' were really too small for him, he was a tall elf). As for Varric, it wouldn't have been unusual for a dwarf merchant to be dealing with the elves in tools or resources. It was a good plan, all told.

Except…

Well, Hawke couldn't be expected to know a lot about elf culture, Fenris supposed. He wasn't precisely clued-up himself, he was a man of the city, really. He suspected Zevran too was happier among buildings and brickwork. The point was the Dalish didn't traditionally _like_ city elves. This clan in particular seemed downright disgusted by the idea of not living among nature, when Fenris had made the mistake of telling a curious hunter that he wasn't _from_ any clan that he knew of the man's eyes had nearly popped out of his head.

They were probably only being allowed to stay now because the name of Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall and of Mages everywhere, carried some weight with the magic-using Dalish.

"_Seth'lin."_

Fenris wasn't quite sure where the rest of the party was, he had a feeling Hawke was off talking with the keeper, and Isabela would probably be trying to seduce some poor unsuspecting man into her tent.

He could guess that the Abomination had wandered off to 'think a while' _again_, which at least opened up the chance of him getting left behind. The mage seemed to spend all his time these days staring off into space.

In any case, himself, Zevran and Merrill had been left to sort out some of the party's gear, organise their potions and generally sit around their campfire and… be hissed at.

That was the only way of describing it, every now and then one of the clan would pass by on their mysterious errands, and the three elves around the fire would be treated to a hiss of that _word_. The Dalish snarled it in the same way some humans snapped out 'Knife-ears.'

"_Seth'lin."_

Zevran twitched faintly, but didn't show any reaction beyond that. He lowered his voice a little, "It would not be so bad, I think, if they shouted it, no? But they just say it. Like one would say 'chair' or 'fire'."

Fenris shrugged, "It's a word. Nothing more."

Merrill kept her head down, focused on poking at the fire with the end of her staff.

"Sticks and stones will break my bones," Zevran nodded, then sighed, "but words, my friends, will break my heart. Words have power, amigo."

"Only if you give it to them." Fenris replied evenly, counting up stamina potions and trying to divide them into equal piles. "Besides I'm not sure I even know why we should be offended… doesn't it just mean 'city elf'? If so, they're not wrong."

Merrill sighed gently, her irises wide and pupils small, a sure sign of upset. "It doesn't." she hesitated slightly, then added, "It means thin blooded. The clans think elves that live in cities are… not really elves at all."

Zevran rolled his golden eyes, "Idiocy, if we are not elves I demand to know what kind of accident gave us these ears…" he raised an eyebrow, "Perhaps a bird grabbed each one of us by them and stretched them out?"

Fenris managed to crack a small smile at the image of this, "Or perhaps we were caught in some dreadful stretching torture device."

The two males laughed, causing several of the clan to narrow their glares even more, as if angry with them for daring to be happy.

"It's not funny." Merrill mumbled, still staring at the fire. "Doesn't it hurt either of you at all? These are our _people_ and they look at us like mud."

Zevran shook his head, his fine golden hair catching the fading sunlight. "Caramia, I was born in a whorehouse and raised by assassins, I consider myself a… let's say rogue first and an elf second. I believe my mother was a Dalish, but she left her clan."

Fenris glanced around at the clan, "They're not my people. They are nothing to me… they should not be anything to you, weren't you expelled from your clan for using blood magic?"

Merrill didn't answer.

"You've been living in the alienage for nine years or more now, more than long enough for you to get used to the city." Fenris continued; managing to miss the frantic eye-signals Zevran was giving him to _stop talking_.

Merill's hands were trembling on her staff. Fenris managed to miss that warning sign as well.

"In that sense, surely you're as much a _Seth'lin_ as us." He finished.

Merrill's head snapped up, her eyes narrowed in a rare display of rage; her angered voice sounded very much like she was on the verge of tears; perhaps she was. Fenris wasn't entirely sure of what to do, the sight of Merrill angry had the shock of the unusual.

"Don't you _ever_ call me that! It's bad enough when they say it but don't you _dare_ say such horrible things to me, you… you…_len'alas lath'din_!" she spat the last words of this and in a movement entirely out of her character, she drew one thin hand back and struck the silver-haired warrior across his face.

The blow wasn't hard, but it was unexpected and Fenris flinched out of surprise more than pain. His head snapped back up just in time to see Merrill running off towards her tent in floods of tears.

There was a moment of total silence, when even the hostile Dalish seemed at a loss for understanding.

Fenris reached up to touch his own cheek, blinking in total incomprehension. "…Did she just _slap_ me?"

Zevran folded his arms, raising one eyebrow. "Si."

"And then run off crying?"

Zevran nodded.

"…What should I do?"

"For starters, be greatful she did not try to melt you with that staff of hers!" Zevran declared, "I have heard many thoughtless speeches before… been on the receiving end of one or two, given a few dozen, but really…" the blonde elf shook his head, "Jou are something else."

Fenris frowned, "Thoughtless…? I merely pointed out that she-"

"Look, my friend," Zevran began, shaking his head as he spoke at how anyone could be so unknowing of what he was saying. "To jou and me a few little insults are nothing, jes? Knife-ears, Seth'lin, man-whore, savage, just silly little names from silly little people who we could crush like fleas, jes?"

Fenris nodded blankly, he was prepared to admit to ripping the still-beating hearts out of one or two men who made the mistake of hitting his 'berzerker' button by calling him a slave. His ex-master included, come to that.

The Antivan sighed, "Well dis is because we have never been anything but men of de cities, we do not care what they say because we do not care about them. The little blossom though, de blood of de Dales runs strong in her, they're her family. To her, being a _seth'lin_ is like…" he pouted, staring at the sky for an appropriate metaphor.

"Like being called a slave after ten years of freedom?" Fenris suggested, shame rising in the pit of his stomach. Not that he gave much of a damn about the blood mage, but he didn't consider himself to be a cruel man at heart, he hadn't escaped years of torture only to start dishing it out.

Zevran nodded, "Or like being called a whore when you don't get paid for _that_ service." He flicked his hair slightly.

Fenris rolled his moss-green eyes, "Can have a single conversation without bringing sex into it?"

"Can I help it if I'm a seductive son of a bitch?" Zevran countered, winking at the taller elf before added, "You probably ought to say something to the girl, when she comes out. De name-calling, it means something to her."

Fenris shrugged, looking somewhat reluctant but unwilling to argue about it. He paused a moment or two then asked, "What was it she called me? Len'alas lath'din?"

Zevran's smile weakened slightly, "Ah, you don't want to know, trust me." He sighed, "de little blossom, she is not a _bad_ person, no?"

Fenris shrugged. "I do not like mages, particularly blood magic, but I suppose her intentions are good, and she takes greater care now she knows the true cost of her magic."

"So we are agreed she shouldn't be made to suffer like dis?"

"I suppose." Fenris replied, only a little reluctant to agree.

"_Seth'lin."_

The hiss was low and the speaker probably thought the two city-elves would either ignore or not hear, as they had all the times before. He certainly didn't expect the two males to fly to their feet with the speed they did.

The tanned one with incorrect blood writing on his face flung him to the ground and brought two blades to his throat all in one supine movement, crouching over his head. The other one, the tall one with the white-blood markings squatted next to his chest. To the Hunter's horror, those white markings suddenly lit up with a pale sapphire glow.

"Now den," Zevran purred, "I suggest you watch what my friend the… what was your word for us? _Seth'lin_, can do. Watch closely, you don't want to miss it."

Fenris smirked wolfishly, and slid his hand into the hunter's stomach, feeling the pulse of organs and flesh, the speed of his frightened heart. For the moment he didn't clench around anything, the point for now was to scare, not kill.

"Oh no! Please no!" The Hunter yelped, wanting to wriggle away but only too aware of the daggers at his throat. "In the name of the gods please!"

Fenris tilted his head gently, "I think he wants us to stop."

"Jou know, I believe you." Zevran replied, "Amigo, do you want the two scary _seth'lin_ to let you up?"

The elf nodded wildly, face going paler by the second.

"He's pissed himself." Fenris spoke in calm, observational tones. He experimentally wiggled one finger and heard the man whimper.

Zevran didn't appear to hear the other man, "Now, we might let jou up. But first, amigo, you will make us a promise, jes? It's a nice, easy promise."

The hunter nodded frantically.

"Good, a wise Dalish, we should have him stuffed. You, my true-blooded friend, are going to spread the word among your clan, if we two hear _any_ of you use that _charming_ word against de little female elf who arrived with us, my friend over there will re-arrange some organs."

Fenris twisted his hand slightly, to demonstrate. The Hunter yelped, "All right, all right! I'll tell them!" he almost wept.

"And when you've done that you'll go to her tent and ask her to come tell your clan some stories tonight." Fenris added with a growl. He noted Zevran's slightly puzzled look at his but chose not to comment.

The Hunter swallowed hard, "But, but she's…"

"Is this your kidney I feel in my hand?" Fenris cut him off.

"I-I'll talk to the keeper! I'm sure he'll agree! Please, please, don't-"

Fenris withdrew his hand, Zevran lifted his blades and the two returned to their places by the fire, continuing with their tasks as if nothing had happened. Fenris started to wipe the residual blood from his hand with no apparent care.

The Hunter remained lying on the ground for a moment, uncertain of what he was allowed to do now.

"Go on, shoo." Zevran added, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Go change your trousers."

That night, Merrill did not join the companions around their own campfire, she'd been requested by the Clan's Keeper to tell some stories of the old gods. Hawke could see her silhouette almost dancing around the clan's fire.

She'd been somewhat surprised, only earlier that day the Keeper had told her that while she and the other Shems were welcome to stay for a while, the three elves were causing bad feeling in the clan. Well, people could change, she supposed, and Merrill was pure dalish.

"Not jealous of Daisy, are you lads?" Varric asked suddenly, probably having noticed Hawke looking from the dancing female elf to the other two.

Zevran barely looked up from his apparently deep conversation with Bethany, "Pah, I could have them staring at me like that any time I wanted and I wouldn't need to tell any silly stories."

Isabela chuckled, "Nah, you'd perform a strip-tease."

"I hadn't even thought of that!" Zevran gasped, raising his eyebrows at this announcement, "I was planning on just taking my shirt off."

The group laughed softly at this declaration, Hawke turned her eyes to her lover, sharpening his broadsword with apparently intense concentration. "And I don't have to worry about you running off to join the Dalish, do I?"

Fenris shook his head, "They wouldn't allow it even if I wanted to prance around in the mud like them." He paused, then added, almost unthinkingly, "They call me and Zevran _seth'lin_, they don't seem to think we're actually elves."

Hawke's eyes narrowed in annoyance, "Oh, do they? Would you like me to-"

"No. I don't care what they think of me, I only care for your opinion of me." Fenris replied quickly, ignoring the teasing laughter from the others at this blatant show of affection.

Hawke smiled, blushing a little, "Oh…" she mumbled, hesitating a second before shifting to lean her head on his shoulder. It was strange but pleasant to be able to do this without his armour jabbing her. His lips curved into a crooked smile as he continued to sharpen his blade.

A few moments of comfortable silence later and Hawke piped up suddenly, "What about Merrill? Do they call her names too?"

Zevran and Fenris exchanged a look.

"No, they don't." Fenris replied.

**A/N: all translations taken from the DA wiki.**

_**Seth'lin**_**= Thin Blood, I think it's usually used to refer to half-elves like Feynriel but I'd imagine some Dalish would use it as a derogatory for city elves.**

_**Len'alas lath'din**_**= Dirty child that no-one wants, about the worst insult I could imagine Merrill using.**


	7. Moonlight

It was an unseasonably warm night, for the Free Marches. The moon was high and swollen with it, the sky painfully clear. They'd damped down their campfire as much as they dared to, the heat was unneeded and the moon was providing all the light they could want.

The native Fereldans among the group were suffering for it, fanning themselves with whatever came handy and occasionally pouring water from their skeins onto their heads.

Zevran, on the other hand, had barely reacted. All he'd done so far that could even be a sign of warmth was remove his gloves. This had turned out to be so he could reach into his own pack and bring out a lute, beginning to play a few notes at a time in no particular tune.

"Oh, you play?" Bethany asked, lowering the leaf she'd been using as a fan to lean forwards and observe his fingers.

Zevran smirked and nodded, "On nights such as dis, I do. Ah, it reminds me of home, heady, humid nights, good wine-" he paused to sip a little from the bottle, then pulled a face, "Well, _wine_ at any rate, and the company of beautiful people." His eyes flickered to the side of the fire where the Hawke sisters sat. "Very beautiful, I may add."

Fenris huffed slightly, but made no comment. Zevran flirted with everyone, attached or not. His Hawke was vivacious and something of a tease, she would respond to flirts but take them no further than words. She'd assured him of this with cooing endearments of 'You're the only one, Fenris.' So for now, he would allow the comments to slide by.

"You can keep this weather," Aveline commented, taking another deep swig of her own water, "I don't know how you stand this heat… the _stickiness_ of it! We never had summers like this back home, did we Hawke?"

Hawke nodded, "Never… they were _beautiful_ though, weren't they?" he eyes glazed a little, her own leaf-fan being moved automatically as her mind clearly wandered somewhere else. "The farms were the best in the height of summer. All those golden fields… and when the wind blew, it rippled like an ocean of sunlight."

All eyes fell to her as she spoke, they often did. Hawke had a voice people would listen to. Zevran's fingers began to pick out a low, gentle tune, adding background noise to her words.

"It was warm, not like this though. Drier, I suppose. We did have some spectacular lightning storms sometimes. Do you remember how we hid under our bed, Bethy?" Hawke turned her slightly far-off gaze on her sister.

Bethany smiled and nodded, "Carver always wanted to run out into it, to see it up-close. Mother and Father always had such a time trying to keep him in."

Hawke sighed lowly, "Oh, and there were the summer dances too! Usually up in the old village barn… from back when the village used to have a local lord, it was used to house his grain. Never did find out why the last one was never replaced. I suppose the village wasn't important enough. Anyway, some men from the village would give it a re-paint, all the woman would make acres of food…" Hawke's eyes lit up, "Ah… and people would play music and we'd all dance all night! Right until the sun came up sometimes!"

Varric smirked, "Ahh, our Hawke's a country girl. I'd never have guessed, you fit in so well in the city and you hate woods."

Hawke appeared to snap suddenly out of her memories, shooting the dwarf a look, "Oh… woods are different. Too many trees, no _space_, no organisation. Cities are better because you can see where you're going, but they're still so… crowded. But on farms there's space to run, always a fog of corn to go get lost in."

Bethany giggled and nudged her sister gently, playfully, "Marian used to live in our cornfields. You would never have believed she was a future champion if you'd seen her!"

"Oh, tell us Sweet thing!" Isabela crowed, leaning over with mischievous eyes, "This should be better than little Aveline in pigtails, terrifying all the village boys!"

"I already told you that never happened…" Aveline muttered, managing to miss the way her husband smiled at this endearing image.

Hawke gave her sister a warning look, but clearly had little energy to argue, slumping sideways to lean on Fenris while her sibling took over the entertainment for the night.

Bethany laughed again, "Well, for starters, my sister never wore pigtails, sorry Bela. She always let her hair fly loose. Every morning mother would tie it up in plaits and ponytails; every night she'd come home having lost all her ribbons!" she paused, for dramatic effect, it seemed, "_And_ she used to wear dresses!"

Varric snorted into his drink, to his certain knowledge, Hawke hadn't worn anything close to a dress in all the years he'd known her. Well, with her fighting style a gown would get in the way, and she seemed to take the attitude that so long as she was comfy then the rest of the world could go hang.

"Oh yes," Bethany purred, delighting in the attention, "She wore cute little gingham frocks and long blue pinafores and everything in between!"

"I tore them up something terrible." Hawke remarked in a slightly petulant voice.

Bethany nodded, "Poor mother had to patch them up so much, there couldn't have been anything left of the originals."

"Ahh, cute little Hawke in cute little frocks." Isabela cooed. "Climbing about in haystacks and trees and worrying her poor mum."

Hawke rolled her eyes indulgently, "Yeah, well I was a tomboy… you can't all be that surprised, surely?" she paused a moment, smiling gently and ruffling her sister's hair, "When the dances came around in the summer all the boys wanted to take the beautiful younger Hawke girl, I think I scared them off."

"I can see why." Fenris muttered, though not unkindly.

Hawke's eyes flickered with the smallest hint of hurt at this, it was one thing for her to laugh at herself and claim to have frightened all the boys, another all together for the man she loved to declare her a fright.

He appeared to notice the look she was giving him and hurriedly added, "Not like that, Hawke, I meant that a beautiful, wild girl like you must have been very intimidating for them. Men are lazy creatures, it would be much easier to go for the pretty, gentle little sister than try to win beautiful Marian."

Hawke blushed, lowering her head, her lips curling into a smile. "Oh."

"Hah! And to think this is the same broody elf who didn't know how to react when Hawke called him handsome!" Varric commented with a low chuckle. "You've come a long way, Broodilocks, been taking lessons?"

Fenris rolled his eyes, choosing not to reply and instead slid his arm around Hawke's shoulders.

"Wait a moment, are you calling me easy?" Bethany asked suddenly.

Fenris' eyes swivelled madly, looking for an escape, "I-I did not mean-" he began to stammer, until Bethany laughed and playfully swatted his arm.

"Joke, Fenris." She giggled. "You're so easy to tease, this trip's going to be loads of fun."

None of the group noticed the look their tanned elf companion was giving the giggling younger Hawke sister as he began to play an Antivan love song, eyes fixed on her.

Though the moon stayed high and the heat crept up with it, eventually the group retired to their tents, hoping against all odds for sleep and the coolness of the morning.

Zevran stayed up, electing to take watch and enjoy the warmth that reminded him so much of his homeland. He hummed gently and softly to himself, in time with the lute in his arms, caressing the strings gently as a lover.

"You have a beautiful voice."

The speech was so unexpected his fingers slipped on the strings, making an unpleasant jarring noise. Bethany winced, squeaking out, "Oh, sorry!"

"No matter, no matter." Zevran replied, easily picking the tune back up and strumming gently away, "De company of a beauty such as this is worth a broken string or two, eh?"

Bethany smiled crookedly. She ignored the compliment, figuring it for just another example of hoe Zevran behaved with everyone. She settled near the elf by the slowly dying fire. "I couldn't sleep, it's too warm." She paused, then added with a sneer of disgust, "Plus my sister's tent's right next to mine and…" she waved one hand towards the tent in question.

Zevran looked up at it and smirked as the way the moonlight shone on the thing revealed the faint outline of two bodies in the throes of passion.

He smirked, "Ah, the heat of summer and of lust, you cannot blame them… it's a terrible temptation and they are young and in love."

Bethany shook her head, her dark curls tumbling around her face, "Don't I know it… I don't begrudge her being in love, Maker knows she deserves its and Fenris worships the ground she walks on… there's absolutely no-one I'd rather have as a brother in law." She spotted the look on Zevran's face at this and shrugged, "Any damn fool can see they'll get married and have dozens of little pointy-eared babies, sooner or later. It's just that…" she trailed off, uncertain of just what upset her about her sister and the elf together.

Zevran chuckled, "Preciosa, are you jealous?"

"No!" Bethany yelped, then realised that the suddenness of her answer made it entirely unbelievable. She sighed, "Perhaps a little."

The Antivan elf lowered his eyelids slightly, admiring her in this moonlight. Maker, Hawke women were beauties. "And dere is no special man for little Bethany?" he purred, "A man back in Ferelden perhaps? Or one among our group?"

"There was never time for a special man back home." Bethany smiled gently, the blanket she'd wrapped around herself for modesty slipping a little as she shrugged again, "Marian's always been protective of me, never lets men near. I think she intends for me to die a virgin."

"Ah, such a thing would be a waste." Zevran purred, eying the young woman, "You and your sister are great beauties, epic sonnets should be composed in both your names, and you, lovely Bethany, will not die lonely, or virginal, if I have my way." He winked one golden eye.

Bethany smirked wryly, lowering the blanket from around her shoulders, her nightdress was white, a delicious coincidence to their conversation, Zevran thought.

"Oh yes?" she hummed, "And are you going to write those epic sonnets for me and Marian? I warn you, I won't be losing my maidenhead for anything less than a timeless love song."

Zevran grinned, Maker, evidently this vivaciousness ran in the Hawke girls blood. He could see the appeal in both of them, Marian was a beauty, charming and bright but… well, she came with so much history, so much hurt behind her deep green eyes… it was more than Zevran felt he could handle, he had enough drama of his own without someone else's into the bargain. She needed Fenris, someone as damaged as she was, they could fix one another.

This one though, beautiful Bethany with her midnight hair and sad eyes…

"Jou never answered my other question, senora." Zevran hummed, still strumming small tunes. "Is dere perhaps a man among this band of vagabonds who holds your interest? De Blonde mage, perhaps?"

Bethany pulled a face, "Anders? Oh no… he's just not my type, besides he doesn't need a lover, he needs a friend. Anyway," she lowered her voice a little, "I know he carried a torch for my sister, but I think... she's the only woman he's ever been interested in. If you see what I mean?"

Zevran raised one cool eyebrow, replying evenly, "He is gay, jou mean? It's not a curse word, little sunshine."

Bethany blushed darkly, "Sorry… these sorts of things weren't talked about in the circle."

"No? What a hive of boredom it must have been." Zevran replied, "What did jou do for fun? Knock helmets off Templar's heads?"

Bethany giggled, lifting one hand to modestly cover it, a lady in her heart if not in her life. "I wish."

"So not the mage… the dwarf?" Zevran suggested with a grin, "His chest hair is rather tempting, I admit and he's a very amusing man."

Bethany shook her head once more, "Varric thinks of me the same way Hawke does, the sweet baby sister who needs protecting."

Zevran sighed heavily, as if all the weight of the world had been dropped onto his shoulders at this news, "Well then preciosa, unless you desire female flesh or perhaps attached men, I fear your options have just run out. There's no-one else here whom you could be attracted to, is there?"

He spoke with deliberate ignorance, taking careful aim, if he was correct, then the next words she spoke would be:-

"…I wouldn't say that." Bethany purred, lowering her eyelids slightly and turning to face Zevran more fully. "

Zevran's ivory-white grin widened a little. _Bullseye_.

"Oh? There is someone else?" he hummed, lowering his hands from his lute to shoot her his most heated look. It had got him into the bedchambers of nobles, peasants and occasional royalty before now.

She _resisted_. He didn't have a bloody clue how, but she did. Her response was a mere wry smile as she stood back up, "I'm going back to bed, they must be finished by now, even Fenris hasn't got that much stamina."

She turned and began to walk away. Zevran found himself staring after her wide-eyed, uncertain of how to take this. He wasn't used to people being able to resist _that_ look.

She stopped at the entrance to her tent and looked back at him, her brilliant, full lips cooed out, "Compose me an epic love song and I'll tell you who has my attentions, Zevran." She winked, and then she was gone.

Zevran sat there for a while, staring at where she had been with his mouth open in slight astonishment. He cleared his throat, a little embarrassed, then picked up the lute lying across his lap.

_Maker, what a woman!_

He grinned and experimentally plucked a string. So, the minx wanted a song composed for her? Well, he'd never tried to write a song before, but it couldn't be that hard if flouncing poets managed it.


	8. Fading Dreams

**A/N: ^^; Ok, I don't claim to be an expert on how 'The Fade' works, bute hopefully this is passable. X_X Warning for some low-level creepiness.**

Hawke slid her hand over the fine carvings on the walls, she did it so often there was probably a groove being worked into the pine, but she loved it. It reminded her that this was real, this beautiful home, her mother's childhood home, was theirs. She kept thinking that at any second she would wake up and be back in the hovel with Gamlen and his stinking cheese.

"Good morning, messere, no new messages today." Bodahn called from his usual post by the main door, as Sandal sat happily playing with piles of blank stones, by evening they would doubtless have become runes.

"Thank you Bodahn." Hawke replied, "Perhaps I'll take today off, Kirkwall won't burn to the ground if I do, will it?"

Bodahn chuckled nervously, "Oh, of course not, messere… probably not."

Hawke winked cheekily at the dwarf and continued into her library. A new book for Fenris was what she was after; her day off could be spent productively curled up in front of his fireplace with the elf of her dreams, sounding out words in that beautiful voice of his until he was more literate than even she was.

Again she raised her hand to skim the trappings of her home, this time the leather-bound books, letting out a happy sigh at the feel, some so old their etched titles had worn away, others new and slippery to the touch. Heaven.

"Oh, good morning mistress!"

Hawke looked up with a smile to see Orana on the high ladder to the top of the shelves, a duster in one hand. "Good morning, Orana… maker, do the shelves really need so much work? I saw you up there only the other day, I'm sure."

Orana shook her head meekly, then lowered it with shame at having disagreed, "Beg your pardon mistress, but the shelf has not been done for months."

Hawke frowned, a little puzzled by this, surely it had only been yesterday or the day before? Still, this was weak, pointless talk, her man would be waiting and he'd want a new book. She selected a couple of compilations of fairytales from Fereldan, He'd like those and they were about his level, more to the point, she would love to hear her childhood stories again.

Carrying an armful of the books she almost skipped from the library, stopping only to check the pile of notepaper at the desk.

_I'm proud of you, love mother._

Hawke's heart melted. "Oh, mother…" she whispered. The woman was so thoughtful at times, now if only she could get her to agree to stop pushing her eldest child towards a 'suitable husband' and convince Fenris to come live in the mansion, life would be complete.

She hurried out into the main hall, placing the books down on a side-table while she considered what to wear for a visit to Fenris, usually her armour sufficed but if today was to be a rest day perhaps her house-robe would be sufficient? He was, after all, such a close neighbour, and-

"Ah, there you are, Marian."

Hawke turned, blinking at the sight of her mother coming down the stairs, in that lovely purple gown again, Hawke noticed. "Hello mother." She replied happily, "I was about to head out, is there something?"

Lady Amell rolled her long-suffering eyes, "Ah, you buy this beautiful home then you spend next to no time in it. I don't understand you, Marian…"

Marian shrugged, "That's me, I'm an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, surrounded by a mystery."

"You're a cheeky young madam is what you are!" Lady Amell chuckled, swatting her daughter's arm, "Now dear, there was something I wanted to talk to you about-oh!" the woman was cut off by the sound of the front door.

Bethany huffed and shuffled across the floor, her robe sweeping the tiles as she went. "Hello Mother… oh, I see lazybones finally decided to get up." She winked at her sister, nodding to the basket over her arm "I've been to market, got us some gorgeous fruit for after dinner. I made sure to get loads of apples." She giggled, then scurried off towards the kitchen.

Hawke was struck again by a feeling of unease, it didn't feel right that Bethany was here… and what was that about apples?

She dismissed it quickly, Bethany was an odd girl at times, perhaps the fancy new home was going to her head a bit.

Leandra shook her head, "Your sister is such a hard worker, you know she refuses to have the servants shop for our food? Still, I'm glad of that, you and her must never forget what it was like to have nothing, it will make you appreciate having this place all the more."

Marian sighed in content. "I know… I do appreciate it mother, I love it here. I hope I never leave."

"Good, but on to what I wanted to discuss," Leandra repeated, looking a little nervous as she approached the subject, "What do you think of me possibly marrying again?"

Hawke tilted her head. Now this really was setting off alarm bells for some reason, she chewed her lip, wondering how to tell her mother she didn't want a stepfather, that she should spurn all suitors, without sounding a petulant child?

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you and that elf look at one another. I'm sure you two could live without me hovering around the place." Leandra added, eyes glittering with a mirth Hawke adored. "When am I going to get my first beautiful grandchild, eh?"

Hawke blinked. That didn't sound right, her mother _liked_ Fenris, sure, he was very respectful whenever he happened to come over, but surely the sight of the heir to the Amell fortune and her Elf lover would cause a scandal Leandra would want nothing to do with? Surely grandchildren out of wedlock would put the woman into a hissing fury?

"Please, Matrona, we've barely been wed a month."

Hawke spun on the spot, twisting her head up to where the huge balcony overlooked the main hall. _That voice-!_

Fenris was standing up there, leaning over the railings with a casual smile on his lips… where was his armour? He was clad in some sort of green tunic and leggings ensemble that Hawke couldn't recall seeing at his mansion. What was he even _doing_ here? He always refused to come stay with her, he liked his own space.

_Wed!?_

Her eyes flickered onto the elf's hands. Yes, there was a golden band around one finger. Her head wrenched down to inspect her own hand.

Yes, there it was, a golden wedding band, reflecting emerald eyes. Her emerald eyes.

Of course… her wedding band, they'd been married last week, in a beautiful ceremony at the Chantry… yes, all their friends attended, and most of Kirkwall's nobility, and they'd cheered and thrown flowers, one wedding doing more for the cause of equal rights for elves than any law ever could.

Of course he was here, he lived here, he was, after all, now _Lord_ Fenris, and she Lady Hawke. He hadn't even objected to having to take her last name, having none of his own to provide. That was what Bethany's apple reference was about, Fenris liked apples better than any other fruit. He particularly liked Orana's apple pie, it was amazing he kept that trim figure, the way he ate the stuff.

Leandra was laughing, "Ah, my prodigal son in law awakes, the amount of time you two are spending locked up in that bedroom, young man, I expect seven darling grandchildren to spoil by the end of the year!"

Fenris chuckled, bowing slightly, "Matrona, your daughter locks me in our room in order to teach me to read, but if you are so eager for children to dance at your feet and run you ragged, I am only too happy to oblige." His olive-green eyes flickered towards Hawke in a worryingly seductive way.

Hawke blushed furiously. Maker, these two got on _far_ too well, and clearly they were plotting against her, _seven_ babies? She wanted a child, not a litter!

"Oh, go to your room, you beast!" She called up to her husband, "I'll be up in a moment with some books!"

The elf tilted his head, smirking warmly and waving one hand tenderly towards his wife, before disappearing from sight. Hawke heard the sound of their bedroom door opening and closing.

She turned once more to her mother, there was worry in her mind but she couldn't work out what she should be worrying about. "Mother… you do like Fenris, don't you?"

"Of course I do darling." Leandra replied, "I couldn't ask for a pleasanter son-in-law, and he so obviously worships you."

Hawke chewed her lip. "Mmh." She replied, then an idea struck, perhaps she was worried about her friends? "Mother, any news from the others?"

Leandra looked slightly puzzled, "Well, nothing new, dear, no. Aveline and Donnic are still coming over to dinner, they're bringing little Festus." Leandra laughed, "Maker, that child is a terror! Aveline told me the other days he caught him lifting cows over his head in the yard!"

Hawke nodded, that sounded about right… Aveline and Donnic and their little red-headed son who was stronger than most Qunari…

"What about Isabela, and Varric?" Hawke questioned, still feeling urgent and fearful without reason.

"Varric? Oh he came back from his trip to Orlais today, it seems he and Bartrand have struck a very good deal with the publishers, I believe he said he'd drop by later on with your share." Leandra shook her head, "It's very odd to think people want to read all about my little Marian. And Isabela… well, Sister Isabela, I suppose it is now? She's fine as far as I know, seems happy in the Chantry."

Hawke's eyebrows wrinkled. That was… odd… not the thing about Varric and Bartrand, after settling their differences and smashing that stupid idol they'd gone into writing and publishing tales of her adventures. Sister Isabela… really? She'd heard of whores being converted but-

"Merrill sends her love too, I think she's a little lonely at the Arlathvhen, but she _is_ the city elves official representative."

Yes, yes, that made sense, Merrill had flourished in the city, and after a long time of petitioning, had become the 'Keeper' of the Alienage. They badly needed one, after all.

So… why was she still worried? Marian reached up to touch her forehead, her eyes drifted to the floor as the world swam around her.

"Marian, dear, are you all right?" Leandra cooed, all full of concern. "Bodahn, bring her a chair, I think she looks ill!"

Hawke shook her head, "I'm fine, mother, I'm just a little tired… If I still feel like this later I'll go and see Anders, I promise."

"Anders?"

Something about her mother's tone set off a warning alarm in Hawke's head.

"Dear, Anders is dead… you killed him."

She raised her gaze from her feet to the face of Leandra Hawke.

_Maker's breath, her eyes!_

Hawke let out a strangled scream and fell backwards, landing unceremoniously on her backside and shuffling across the floor in her haste to get away.

Cold, dead eyes stared out of her mother's face. A line of stiches crossed her neck. She walked, but it was uneven, as if trying to stumble along on legs not her own.

"You put a dagger in his back, Marian, just like you let me be taken… blood is your trail, Marian…" the voice was… the voice was wrong too… this was all _wrong_!

Marian wished her daggers were on her back. She shuffled backwards faster until her back met the wall. The… the mother-shaped thing kept coming though, slowly, stumbling…

"It was your fault… all your fault, why didn't you protect Carver? You'll kill them all, Marian, all those people you love so much… your love is a death sentence."

Marian struggled to find her voice, "_Fen-!"_ she yelped, before terror took her voice.

Her mother was kneeling before her now, still talking in that horrible monotone. "He will not come, Marian… even if he did, what would it mean? The ones you love die, they fall around you like plague victims… how many bodies, my little Marian? How long until they're all gone? Even your beloved Fenris?"

Hawke twisted and tried to burrow into the brickwork. The… the _thing's_ hands landed on her shoulders, icy and with a grip like death.

The eyes… they weren't just milky with decay… as the thing leant closer and closer to her she saw, within those horrible pupils, a thousand maggots, wriggling and writhing as they ate her mother from the inside out.

Hawke_ screamed_.

She sat bolt upright, covered in a sheen of ice-cold sweat, eyes wide open and _screamed, _loud enough to wake the dead, loud enough for all of Thedas to hear, loud enough to make the world stop turning. She had to scream, she had to because if she didn't she'd go mad, only now she wasn't sure she could stop screaming and maybe that would send her mad instead, maybe-

A hand struck her hard across her cheek and she fell sideways against a warm body.

"You have three seconds to explain before I send you to the Fade!"

"She was hysterical, Fenris, I can't _heal_ hysterics! Maker, that woman has a jaw like solid stone…"

"What the bloody sword was she screaming about?"

"She _is_ all right, isn't she? Hawke?"

Hawke lifted her head, somewhat dizzily. Things began to focus, she found herself staring at several extremely concerned-looking faces. She was in her and Fenris' tent… in her bedroll, Fenris next to her, still in tunic he slept in. Anders was knelt at her other side, waving one hand slightly, she surmised he'd been the one who slapped her.

Bethany was there too, kneeling at her feet holding a cup of water, offering it to her, her shaking hands betraying just how terrified she'd been.

Hawke took it, sipping quickly at the liquid as her eyes fluttered around, surveying.

At the entrance of the tent (pulled open in some hurry, it looked like) others were peering in, more fearful faces. Varric, Isabela, Aveline, Merrill, Donnic and Zevran, all in dressed in their various sleepwear (in the case of Isabela, this seemed to be a blanket wrapped hastily around her torso), all staring at her.

"Hawke, _amica_, please, say something." Fenris bade her gently, touching her arm with his fingertips. "Fasta Vaas, you're freezing!" he growled, seizing the blankets from his bedroll and placing them around her quivering shoulders. "Marian, please, speak."

She let out a shuddering breath. Anders appeared to hit on an idea and lifted one blue-glowing hand to her neck. She sighed as a feeling of warmth and honey flooded her sore throat.

"A… a bad dream…" she managed, "I… I'm sorry to… have scared you all… I had a bad dream."

Isabela and Varric let out twinned sighs of relief; Bela herself remarked, "Andraste's flaming tits, we thought you were being murdered!"

Anders didn't look convinced, nor did Fenris, come to that.

"Must have been one hell of a nightmare." The Healer muttered, placing a hand on her forehead. Fenris was right, it was like touching a sheet of ice, he knew terror when he saw it. Terror like that… it reminded him far too much of what he saw in young mages, entering the fade in their dreams to be tempted by demons for the first time.

Hawke tried to crack one of her usual smiles. "It was a bit… unnerving, that's all."

"Hawke, don't do that, don't lie to the man who put your insides back together when you fought the Arishok." Anders paused, conflicted between his not quite dormant love for the woman and his concern as a healer; and then added, "Would you rather talk alone, with Fenris?"

Hawke sipped at the water her sister had handed over, "I don't want to talk about it, it was a bad dream, nothing more."

"Hawke, I had to heal your vocal chords! Do _not_ bullshit me!" He growled, anger and frustration taking over worry in a sudden rush. Inside him, Justice was howling.

Fenris' markings lit up, in a low, warning tone he snarled, "Bethany, take Anders away until he can calm down. I will talk to Hawke."

Bethany nodded, seizing Anders unresisting arm and dragging him from the tent, scattering the other companions as she did. Zevran followed, one dagger drawn in case Justice decided to put in an appearance.

Fenris grunted in annoyance, throwing the flap of the tent shut and wishing for a second that there was a way to _slam_ fabric, then turned back to his still-shivering lover.

"Marian…" he whispered gently, shifting pillows and bedclothes enough to sit behind her, pulling her against his chest; trying to warm her with his body. He felt her shivers stop and her body slowly relaxing as his hands stroked up and down her arms.

"We were all back in Kirkwall." She finally mumbled. "in my house… mother was there, she was alive. And Bohdan and Sandal and Orana… maker, Fenris, I don't know if they're alive. I gave them coin and told them to run but…"

"Hush, hush…" Fenris hummed, "Bodhan and Sandal probably went back underground, you gave Orana your seal and sent her to the Dalish, they wouldn't be as stupid as to refuse her sanctuary if you asked it."

Hawke swallowed hard, trying to make herself believe this. "…Bethany was there too, like she'd never been sent to the circle. Aveline and Donnic… mother said they'd had a son, that they were happy. Varric and his brother were publishers… Merrill was the city elves keeper."

"Hrm."

"I know, you wouldn't trust her to look after a pot-plant, let alone people… but… just listen, all right?"

Fenris nodded, "All right amica, if it will make you better I'll listen for hours."

"Isabela was a sister in the Chantry."

The low laugh her lover let out at this image was enough to calm Marian a hundred times over. She let out a low sigh, nuzzling her head into his shoulder, broad, warm, _safe_. "We were…we were married."

She waited for the tensing of his muscles, the reaction he unwittingly had to any talk of such commitments.

None came. He merely huffed against her hair, arms sliding beneath the blankets that still covered her to clutch her waist. "I trust that's not the part that made you scream."

"Not exactly… it was… strange though. You were in my mansion, living there, I mean. You and mother were joking together, you called her…" Hawke wrinkled her brow as she tried to recall the word, "Matrona?"

Fenris' breathing faltered slightly. "That means 'Mother'."

Hawke nodded, "I thought it might… but… when I started to realise the dream wasn't… real, mother… mother changed into that _thing_ the mage turned her into. She…" Hawke choked as the tears finally came. "She said everyone was going to die…! Everyone I love dies Fenris! I don't know why but everyone I love just drops dead and-"

Fenris sealed his lips against hers, hands on her cheeks to hold her still, silencing her in the only way he could think of. It wasn't particularly passionate, but it was warm and real and grounded her like nothing else could. She whimpered softly as he drew away, only by an inch, only enough for him to whisper; "I have _no_ intention of dying Marian, nothing will keep me from you."

"But…"

"_Nothing_." He snarled.

Hawke gulped and nodded, slowly. "When… when you say it like that, I almost believe you."

"Then I shall continue to say it." Fenris replied firmly, "Until these dreams stop. I will not have you torturing yourself in your sleep. None of what happened to your family was your fault, and none of us are going to die anytime soon."

He continued to whisper these soft words and more, endearing, gentle phrases in his lilting tones until he felt her relax and fall back to sleep, nodding in his arms like an infant. He smiled gently and stroked her hair from her face, satisfied at the sight of her smiling in her dreams.

With a low sigh the elf shifted to lay down, moving slowly so he didn't wake his lover. He stared up at the ceiling of the tent.

She'd said that in her dream, they were married. And _that_ was apparently 'lovely', It was the one good part of her dream. He glanced guiltily over to where he'd placed his armour; his belt rested on the top, within one of the pouches a ring was waiting, brought from the Dalish tribe they'd stayed with.

Just in case he happened to stop being such a coward and asked her.

Well, if she could brave everything the Fade and life threw at her, he ought to be able to man up and ask her one simple question.


	9. Sunshine

**A/N: So as we know, Bethany Hawke is not easily swayed, even by the king of seduction himself. She's set him a task, and for the last few days I've been racking my brains for a song I could pass off as his, then an utterly perfect song came to mind. I don't want to spoil the surprise, but I didn't write it, I suck at song writing. :)**

Varric hummed to himself as he walked, _scouting_, Hawke had called it, when she'd been assigning jobs. That was an interesting way of saying 'Please could everyone just leave me and my man alone for a while'.

Maker, those two… Broody and Hawke, he'd never seen it coming and yet now it was happening he couldn't imagine a better fit. Like himself and Bianca, he supposed, smirking and patting the silvery barrel of his weapon.

So, he was scouting. Looking for dangers in this… empty, fairy-tale piece of woodland. The dwarf shook his head and sat himself down on a handy fallen log, meaning to polish Bianca up, she deserved to look nice and pretty even out in the wilderness.

Bethany and Anders had been sent off to try and find herbs, Aveline, Donnic and Bela off to hunt for dinner, Fenris, _hah_, he was 'guarding the camp' with Hawke and their illustrious guide, Zevran, had promptly vanished before Hawke could assign him a task. Varric grunted slightly, elf #3 was probably off doing his hair or something.

Not that Varric didn't like the elf, he liked most elves, and humans, he even got on with most dwarves, he was a people person. It just worried him a little that the tanned elf had lately been sort of… following Hawke around the place, not as any of them would follow their leader either; Varric kept catching the man staring at her across the fire at night.

"Can't have that, can we Bianca?" He asked gently as he polished her up, "Took her long enough to get with Broody, not having any Antivan man-whores spoiling a good story like that."

He sat there for almost an hour, cleaning the weapon to a fine shine until he decided that even the damn warrior elf didn't have that much stamina, and in any case, they'd had enough alone time for three whole new 'friend fictions'. With a huff, the Dwarf hauled himself to his feet and was about to head off when he heard an odd noise from the trees across the trail.

Not the odd noise of say, a rabid monster coming to eat him either. If Varric was feeling more generous, he'd have called it singing.

He smirked and began to creep forwards through the bushes and bracken towards the sound of discordant singing and what sounded like a very uncooperative lute.

"_Hmmm-hm-hmmm… raven… craven…_ No, no, stupid… _De other night, mi amora, I dreamt… _No, dis does not rhyme…Argh!"

Varric bit his lip to stop the laughter at the sight he found. Sitting with his back to the dwarf was the same elf who would vanish whenever anything that looked like hard work was being handed out, having an argument with his lute and throwing pieces of parchment left, right and centre.

"How in de name of Andraste's great flaming girdle do poets manage this?! How does de damn dwarf compose such songs for his crossbow when I cannot for…" the elf grumbled, trailing off and kicking the papers from his feet.

"Ahh, I have a wonderful muse." Varric declared, emerging from his hiding spot and delighting in seeing the former Crow nearly fall flat on his back from the surprise of being caught. "So what're you up to, Prettyboy?"

Zevran rallied rather well, cracking a smile and shrugged, "Up to? Me? Nothing, nothing, I crept away to play some music, dis is all."

"Ooh, now you're lying, it must be something embarrassing!" Varric declared, tilting his head to try and read some of the scribbled notes on the forest floor. Zevran shifted, trying to either kick away or stand on all the sheets of paper at once.

"No, no! I thought I would try my hand at composing and-"

"_Cancion para mi ave?"_ Varric read quickly, "Not trying to seduce married women with song?" he smirked.

The Elf appeared flustered, shaking his head wildly, "Only when the marriage is unhappy do I intervene, no, it's just-" he darted to grab another sheet.

Not quick enough, Varric aimed and fired, Bianca's arrow piercing the paper and pinning it to a tree. A second and third shot in rapid succession pinned the elf to another by his shirtsleeves. He wriggled against it, glaring at the dwarf. "Varric, mi amigo, I like jou, do not make me 'ave you say you were eaten by wolves."

Varric ignored him, strolling to the pinned sheet, "Please, they'd never believe you. Want to 'fess up before I figure it out then?"

Zevran wriggled again and winced as he realised he'd left his daggers back at the camp. Fire and brimstone that woman was making a mess of him… he swallowed hard, trying to cover for himself even now, "_Ave_ means Hawk! I was just writing an epic song as you do stories, jes?"

Now Varric began to walk with purpose. "…I see. And it's nothing to do with the heated looks you keep giving her across the fire? What happened to not breaking up happy couples?"

Zevran blinked, "Que?"

Varric rolled his eyes, "Look, in my life there's only three women I care about getting hurt, that's Bianca, Hawke and Sunshine, I'm not going to let some pretty-boy assassin spoil whatever it is Hawke and Broody have." He reached the tree and pulled the arrow out, lifting the sheet up to read Zevran's elegant writing. "Let's see now… _Para Bello Betania…_"

The clearing fell silent. Zevran, for the first time in many, many years, blushed.

Varric, wide-eyed, lowered the sheet to stare at the elf. He cleared his throat, "So ah… wrong Hawke?"

Zevran nodded. "She always sits next to her sister, I can see how jou may think I was looking at her." He paused, then added, "Would you un-pin me now?"

"In a moment," Varric replied, wandering over to the elf and sitting in front of him, still holding the paper, "Ok, so it's not Hawke, it's Sunshine you're after… mind if I ask what for?"

Zevran scowled and wished he had the strength of a warrior, he could have ripped his way free by now. "What sort of question is that?"

"Well it's just that if all you want is a quick tumble, or a 'no strings' arrangement, then Isabela's usually very happy to supply." Varric toyed with Bianca's trigger. "Not to mention how hard Hawke and myself would kill you for something like that. Sunshine is not there to be corrupted."

Zevran threw his head back and laughed, "Corrupted!? Dis is a joke, jes? De woman is the one corrupting me! She creeps into my mind at all hours and has me following her like a silly child! I! Zevran Arianni! She has me undone at the sound of her laughter and…" he growled, embarrassed at himself, "She has me trying to write a song about how insufferably beautiful, bright and lovely she is!"

Varric raised an eyebrow, took the elf in, looking him over as dragons might look at prey, evaluating…

He looked a mess, truth be told. Maybe it was just harder to notice because Elves were so naturally maker-damned elegant that even on a bad hair day they looked good, but Zevran… well, now Varric looked, his neat braids were askew, his usually perfect clothes rumpled, he'd obviously forgotten his daggers, his eyes were somewhat glazed, as if he was even now thinking of something, or _someone_ else.

The dwarf smiled. "Harder than it looks, writing songs, isn't it?" he hopped up and pulled the arrows pinning the elf in place free. "You should have come to me first, Prettyboy."

"Come to…?" Zevran muttered, examining the holes in his shirt and pouting a little. "Jou will help me? What happened to your speech about de women you care about?"

"You won't hurt Bethany." Varric replied simply as he picked up one of the discarded sheets of song-lyrics. "This one has promise, let's start with this one."

Zevran picked up his lute from where it had fallen, still looking mildly baffled by this sudden turn around, "How can jou be so sure? Not loosing my touch that much, am I?"

Varric merely smirked and shook his head, "You'll work it out soon enough. Tell you what, I'll turn this into something that'll make her swoon, you just come up with a nice tune… oh, and I want full rights to tell this story."

Night fell, eventually. The evenings were lasting longer as the summer began in earnest. As usual, the rag-tag group sat around their campfire, amusing themselves with card games, stories and occasional raunchy songs from Isabela.

"Well, I'm quitting before Varric wins my knickers." Hawke declared, throwing down her cards. "You've won everything else, cheating dwarf."

"Hey, you should be pleased I cheat." Varric purred, "Don't you know dwarves kill people if they lose at cards?"

"Hrmph, and elves never pay their debts." Fenris grunted in agreement, lowering his own cards, "You win, Varric. I'm out."

Varric grinned, pulling his pile of 'winnings' (a pile of wood-chips, right at the moment they couldn't afford to gamble with the actual money) to himself. "All right, how about a story?"

Aveline groaned from where she and Donnic were sat, "Not another of your damn exaggerations of Hawke and her band of misfits adventures."

"Now Gingerbread, I always refer to us as 'Hawke and the companions', not snappy but it gets the job done."

"I prefer 'Those lucky fools' myself." Bethany voiced, smirking a little, "It makes sense when you think how many times we've nearly been killed."

Hawke laughed, ruffling her sister's hair. "Cheeky… you're picking up bad habits from Bela." She cleared her throat, "And for the record, I call us 'Hawke and the Hawkettes', if anyone's wondering."

Their laughter was punctuated when Varric cleared his throat, speaking up again with, "Well, in that case, let's have a song. Come on Pretty Boy, get your instrument out."

"Ohh, I'd love to see that." Isabela purred, earning her a glare from Aveline.

Zevran hesitated, still trying to smile his ivory-white grin, "Ah… I am afraid I do not know any of de songs which your lovely Isabela sings."

"Oh, don't you?" Isabela replied, sitting up and grinning, "I'll teach you! This one's called 'The Wizard's staff has a Knob on the end' and it goes like this-" she opened her mouth, taking a deep breath.

"Not tonight, Bela. Let's hear a song from the pretty elf." Varric commanded, something which surprised all of them. Usually he encouraged Bela's singing of pub songs, joining in with her until the whole group was either laughing or fleeing for their tents to escape. The dwarf's eyes hadn't left Zevran once though.

Zevran swallowed, reaching and grabbing the lute from where it leant against his tent. "Very well, I see I shall not escape." He shrugged, settling himself by the fire again and trailing his fingertips over the strings.

Maker help him, he was nervous. He hadn't been nervous since he was an infant! What was this woman doing to him?

He glanced to the paper, left casually next to his spot by the fire. He hadn't had time to learn all the words, so Varric had written them up and told him to just follow as best he could, Bethany would adore it either way.

He cleared his throat, then, running out of excuses not to play, he played.

It was a surprisingly bouncy, jolly tune. He'd been uncertain of it but Varric had insisted that a song for a woman didn't have to _sound_ dirty.

"_D-de other night dear, when I was sleeping… I dreamt I held jou in my arms."_

Well, Zevran was pretty sure those were the lyrics from one of his early, very flawed attempts at writing this song for her, back when he'd tried to put into mere words how it felt when he realised she wasn't next to him, after vivid dreams of her being there.

"_When I awoke dear, I was mistaken. So I hung my head and cried…"_ he licked his lips, at the moment he hoped the rest of the group thought he was just playing a song he'd heard from someone else, some young idiot to his lady love. He glanced quickly around at them.

Well, they didn't look teasing, in fact, the guardswoman and her husband were looking into one another's eyes, totally adoring, and lovely Hawke had settled herself on Fenris' lap, leaning against him with half-open eyes. Maker, Varric _was_ good.

As for the others? Well, Bela was sulking, probably at being forbidden to sing, Merrill was happily nodding her head along to the music, the Anders mage was staring off into space and Bethany…

Bethany was looking right at him, a blush on her pale cheeks and smile on her lips.

"_J-jou are my Sunshine, My only Sunshine…" _He half-hummed the words, almost nervous she would laugh. "_You make me happy when skies are grey._" He glanced towards the paper, singing as he read without really allowing his brain to connect. "_Jou'll never know dear, how much I love you-_Ah?!"

His fingers slipped slightly on the strings, momentarily clumsy.

_Love her?!_ _Varric, you short bastard, I will-!_

He risked another look at the girl. She'd turned redder and now… now she was avoiding his gaze. Shy as a little rabbit. Maker, she was heaven.

Was that it? She was in his thoughts and dreams and driving him to madness in a way no woman had before because he _loved_ her?

Well, that was…

It was…

Zevran smiled.

It was a _relief;_ he'd been thinking there was something wrong with him and here it turned out he was merely in love.

"Apologies, my friends," he spoke quickly, waving off his sudden stumble, "I was struck by the thought that dis song could have been written for Betania." He nodded towards the woman in question, hoping she caught his subtle wink which meant '_It **was** written for you_."

Hawke smiled mildly, clearly not making the connection herself. "Hm, suppose it could have… keep playing Zevran, it was just beautiful."

"Indeed." Zevran agreed, picking the tune up once more;

"_Jou are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine, jou make me happy when skies are grey, you'll never know dear, how much I love you… please, don't take my sunshine awa-ay…"_

That night, long after the others had retired to their tents; a keen observer may have noticed a pair of figures hiding in the shadows around the camp, arms entwined and lips pressed together.

A/N: Zevran's rejected song titles translated are:  
1) Song for my bird (Hawk)

2) For Beautiful Bethany


	10. Ostwick

Ostwick was a pleasant sight to the gang of misfits and madmen when they finally spotted it. They'd picked up the path a few days before and had encountered many things which were a delight to travellers who hadn't seen civilisation in weeks. Travelling merchants, farm carts, even occasional villages, though they hadn't dared take lodgings, news travelled fast, after all, and little villages weren't good places to hide. As Varric pointed out, they needed crowds to get lost in.

But now Ostwick was in sight, looming out of the haze that came off the ocean like some hulking brown beast. Looking no less gloomy than Kirkwall, but to them, heaven. In the early evening light the city was beginning to glow, lanterns being lit in readiness for the night. A place they could, with any luck, find a tavern, a bath, and a ship.

They stopped about half a mile from the city walls to discuss their next move, knowing that it was likely every Templar in the city would be looking for the famous Lady Hawke and her companions.

"Well, I shouldn't have a problem," Bethany confided, "I don't think anyone's even heard of Hawke's mage sister, besides, after the way we grew up I know how to hide my powers."

Varric nodded agreement, "Well said, I think you and Bela should go in together, scout around for someone willing to sell a ship in a hurry. We've got coin, right Hawke?"

Hawke nodded, patting her pack, "Everything I could grab from the estate, plus whatever we made when we sold that venison to the famer we passed."

"Right, and I'll go with the ladies, no-one'll look twice at a dwarven merchant and his two…" he smiled across at the women in question, "_escorts_, looking to buy a ship."

Bethany turned pink, "_Escort?_"

"Oh relax sweet thing, it's all for a good cause." Bela purred, clearly delighted with the idea of having an excuse to tart up Bethany. She grabbed the young girl's arm and tugged her towards the tents, winking at Zevran as she went.

"All right," Varric declared, leaning back and pillaring his fingers as he eyed the rest of their group, "Big girl and her man shouldn't be too suspicious, still got your old uniform Aveline?"

Aveline nodded, "From before being captain, I take it? You want us to claim we're refugees from Kirkwall, don't you?"

Varric smiled, "You know me too well, Gingerbread. City guards are always welcome, just use a fake name and try not to draw attention. Now," he glanced to Hawke, then meaningfully to the rest of the crew.

Left over were Fenris, Merrill, Zevran and Anders. Three elves, one with very distinctive markings, and a man whose name and face would be known across Thedas as a terrorist of the first order.

"All right, Daisy and Prettyboy shouldn't be a problem, we chuck some dirt on them, they claim to be a couple eloping away from the Dalish." Varric spoke in decided tones, ignoring the splutter of protest from Zevran at the idea of having dirt rubbed on him as a disguise. Merrill merely smiled sweetly, of course.

Hawke nodded, "I don't like it much either Zev, but needs must." She sighed, "Myself and Anders… we might have to take our chances going over the wall, I imagine our faces and names are well-known here."

Anders sighed gently. "Hrm, I shall practise my climbing." He mumbled, rising to his feet and walking off, presumably to help pack. Back to being 'sad Anders' for a while, it seemed.

"Now Fen…" Hawke bit her lip, uncertain of how to approach the sensitive topic of his markings.

"I could… wear a hooded cloak, maybe?" he suggested without much enthusiasm. "Although the problem then becomes how suspicious a hooded elf is." He scowled and glared down at his own arm.

Hawke sighed and patted his arm, "Love…"

"Wait a moment, I have an idea!" Zevran cried out, suddenly brightening, "Amigos, we are thinking of this wrong, we do not _hide_ ze beautiful markings!" he dove into his own pack and pulled out what appeared to be a bottle of writing ink. "We _draw attention_ to them!" he grinned widely, looking around at the puzzled faces, "Come now, what's one more elf with tattoos eh?"

"You mean to cover my tattoos with ink?" Fenris asked, blinking at this outlandish suggestion even as the Ativan advanced towards him, uncorking the bottle.

"That's not a bad idea actually!" Hawke chirped, moving forwards too, "Might need to do something about his hair too."

Fenris' scowl deepened as he folded his arms across his chest, reluctant to allow the elf and his lover any nearer with that… scheming look in their eyes. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"It doesn't match your eyebrows, for starters." Zevran muttered, dipping one finger into the ink and running across an exposed line of lyrium. Fenris flinched away at the feeling, letting out a low growl.

"Zevran, I think I'd better do that part, Fenris… doesn't like to be touched." Hawke mumbled, taking the ink bottle away quickly.

"Could have fooled me." Varric muttered, and was ignored by the blushing Hawke.

"We'll have to cover your hair somehow love, they'll be looking for elves with white hair." She cooed gently, reaching up to stroke a few fingers through his dove-coloured locks.

Once more, Zevran grinned, "Oh, that is nothing! Ze work of an instant! Zey teach us to dye our hair in the Crows, disguise is a necessity in our line of work."

Fenris' scowl deepened, "I didn't realise tarting yourself up was part of the lessons of the Crows."

"Oh si, it's the whole second year." Zevran replied cheerily, "Give me a moment or two with my potions and I shall turn your snow-covered iceburg into an ebony prince!"

Fenris growled again, while Varric and Zevran delved into the party's potion supply and Hawke began to painstakingly paint the lines of lyrium, working over the gaps in his armour first and then up to his chin. She stopped only once, to look into his olive-green eyes with an expression that was part pity, part indulgence, and all love.

"I know it's undignified, love." She whispered, leaning in to brush his lips with hers, "But think, soon we'll be in Fereldan, we'll both be free to go where-ever we want. We can travel all over, or build a home, whatever you want."

Fenris allowed a small smile to play his lips. "Hm, no more tents? I'm sick of canvas."

"No more tents." Hawke replied, nuzzling her nose against his. "A nice house, somewhere with a proper bath and a wine cellar so I can spoil you the way you deserve."

Fenris blushed, but leant forwards just enough to kiss her deeply, showing her how appealing the idea was. At the sound of footsteps behind them she drew away, ruffling his hair gently before hopping to her feet, "I'm going to go change into something less 'I'm the champion of Kirkwall'-ish, be gentle with Fenris."

Zevran and Varric watched her leave with twinned smirks, glancing back at the sulking elf as one, before Varric asked the world at large, "Think we should tell her she's got ink-marks on her chin? Been messing around, broody?"

Fenris huffed, though they noticed a secretly appeased smile crossing his lips. "Let's get on with this if it's really happening."

Two hours later, as the sun was slowly dropping, the gate-guard of Ostwick spied a man and a woman approaching, both clad in the armour of Kirkwall city guards. He nodded them through without a look, there'd been plenty of refugees trickling in since the disaster at the Gallows.

"There's warm beds and food at the Vulgar Lion… can't miss it, look for the sign with the ah… Lion on it." The guard smiled hopefully, "Welcome to Ostwick."

"Thank you, serrah." Aveline replied with a wry smile. _Vulgar Lion_? Sounded like Varric's sort of place.

Ten minutes or so later and a dwarf approached, two elegantly-attired women following with their faced covered in pale, almost diaphanous cloths covering the lower halves of their faces. A Merchant then, and the women? Possible slaves or perhaps just 'escorts' for a wealthy man. They were beauties, the guard was happy to admit, one dusky and dark, the other pale as new snow.

"Varius, merchant." Varric introduced himself happily, nodding towards the women, "And my… friends, Belle and Bette."

'Belle' winked one eye, the guard melted, nodding them through the gates. "O-of course, welcome to Ostwick to you and your… lovely companions. There's probably some beds free at the Vulgar Lion."

He was still revelling in the beauty of the women when the elves came strolling over, three of them in all, two with dark hair and the familiar markings of the Dalish, and a third blonde one whose own facial ink was somewhat unfamiliar.

"Halt, what business have you in the city, knife-ears?" he cried, raising his pikestaff.

"No need for such fear, my friend." The Blonde one replied easily, waving his hand, "We're merely passing through, I am helping these two to run away from their clans." He nodded to where the two others stood, "Their families didn't approve."

The Guard looked uncertain, but the tan elf looked honest enough, and the dark-haired male behind him was looking increasingly angered by the fact that they'd stopped. He sighed, "All right, but make sure it is just a pass through the city, we've got more than enough elves."

The tanned elf nodded and hurried himself and his friends through the city gates. Inside, Merrill giggled girlishly at their deception, "My, you did so well Zevran! Now where do we go?"

"The Vulgar lion, we're bound to find Varric there if no-one else." Fenris grumbled, scratching at his arm where the ink was irritating his sensitive skin. As he did, a jangling noise rang out and as one, the three elves looked down.

A ring was laying on the cobblestones at their feet. Fenris dove and seized the thing back; shoving it once more under the red sash he wore around his wrist. Hardly the safest pocket, but he bridled when he couldn't feel it against his skin and be certain of its presence.

Zevran smirked, wisely staying silent. Merrill giggled again, covering her mouth adorably before cooing out, "Oh _Fenris!_ She'll be so pleased!"

Fenris couldn't bite back the little smile, much as he wanted to. "Do you… think so?" he asked, before shaking his head and grumbling, "In any case, you will not tell her. I… intend to surprise her, perhaps when we get to Fereldan."

Merrill nodded, just once, before linking her arms with the two handsome elves. Just for a moment she felt she could indulge herself in being the luckiest female elf in Thedas, a handsome elf on both arms and true friends waiting for her somewhere in this exciting new city.

Back outside, the gate guard shook his head to himself; leaning on his pikestaff and rubbing his neck. This city… filling up with refugees and elves. And no sign of the fugitives that everyone was seeking. Now wouldn't that have been a coup, if he'd caught the Exiled Champion and the terrorist Mage? He could have named his position in the guard for something like that, he could-

There was a silent puff of black smoke behind him. He never knew what struck him on the back of his head, knocking him clean out.

Hawke tucked her dagger back onto its sheath. Anders crept over from where he'd hidden by the roads, eyes narrowed in disapproval, "Did we have to do that? He was just a boy."

"Don't go justice on me now Anders, he was in the way and he'll have nothing worse than a headache in the morning." She rubbed her forehead, "So, do you think we look sufficiently un-Hawke and un-Anders like?"

Anders eyed the woman. She was wearing a _dress_, something Hawke hadn't ever done, to his knowledge, and loosened her hair. To her face, Zevran had added some temporary facial tattoos in light blue. Certainly it took two or three glances to be sure of who she was, even for her friends. And for himself, his coat had been rolled into his pack, his staff re-decorated to become a spear and some of Donnic's armour borrowed to turn him from a mage into a warrior. Hopefully it would be enough.

"I think so." He replied. "I hope so." He hesitated a moment longer, than added, "Hawke, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for me… I… I can't believe that you would risk so much."

Hawke shrugged blithely, eyeing the wall with criticism. "You're my friend, Anders, no matter what you did. Give me a leg-up, would you? We'll be inside soon enough and then we can get ourselves some drinks!"

He did so, watching her lithe shape scramble to the top before she began to unwind a rope for him. He glanced back to the woods and path they'd been following then shook his head and returned his eyes to the wall before him, "Right, your _friend_. No matter what."


	11. Music

(A/N: X_X whew, sorry for the huge delay in this one, my only excuse is that life suddenly got insanely busy and I had to take a break from writing for a while, apologies, hopefully this slightly longer update makes up for it!)

"Have you decided what kind of a wedding you'll have?"

Fenris didn't look up from sharpening his blade, he'd been doing that a lot of late, this new city made him uneasy. They'd got into the alienage easily enough, Zevran's charm had helped them a lot in that respect. But still, the easy friendliness of the elves here was putting him on edge, he kept looking for the catch.

His covering of the markings was wracking his nerves too. Sure no-one looked twice at him when his tattoos were covered in dark ink, but it would only take one moment, one brief snap of his temper and their cover would be blown. At least the dye they'd poured into his hair was something he could forget about, but never the markings.

Coupled with Merrill's incessant questions about _when_ he was going to give Hawke the ring… well, it was one unhappy tevinter elf sitting in the hovel the three occupied.

"What do you mean, 'What kind of wedding'? One where we get married and hopefully no-one attacks us." He replied with a growl.

"Ah, she means do you intend on wedding our lady Hawke in a Chantry or a Dalish wood?" Zevran called from the next room. He appeared in the doorway, shirtless and towelling his long blonde hair dry. "Dalish weddings are lavish affairs." He commented with a wink.

"Oh! Have you been to many?" Merrill chirped, eyes lighting up, "I've never seen a wedding… oh my, are you _married_, Zevran?"

Zevran gave a loud snort and began to laugh at this absurd suggestion, shaking his head gracefully, "Dear Blossom, I would have to have wedded the most understanding woman in all Thedas to get away with what I do. No, no-one has seen fit to make an honest man of me."

"As if a ring on your finger would do that." Fenris replied with a roll of his eyes.

Zevran winked again in reply, turning back to Merrill, "I have seen a Dalish wedding, yes. A friend of mine from years ago… ahh Fenris, amigo, do not dismiss the idea so fast, eh?"

Fenris shrugged, "Why not? Hawke is a human and I'm a _seth'lin_, I scarcely see how a Dalish wedding would be appropriate."

Merill shook her head quickly, "Oh no, you don't have to be full Dalish, all elves can have a wedding officiated by a keeper, I don't know what the rules are about Shems but Hawke's respected among the people, I doubt there'd be objections."

Fenris rolled his eyes, "Even so, I doubt that would be to either of our tastes." He paused, then risked a look up. Merrill's eyes were saddened.

He let out a deep sigh, perhaps he was softening from this time among other elves. "All right, tell me about it." He huffed.

Zevran sighed happily, brushing his long blonde hair back, "Ah, well the main thing is that it must take place during a full moon. I asked a keeper about that once, apparently full moons keep the dread wolf away. The keeper stands atop this… sort of little stage thing." Zevran waved his hands vaguely, uncertain of how to describe it, "all covered in white flowers, Ivy, I believe…"

"For a good marriage!" Merrill piped up knowledgably, nodding at Fenris, as if he'd been doubting her knowledge of plants. The Tevinter elf rolled his eyes in response.

"Si, for a good marriage. De bride and groom wear white, and are brought to the stage by all the men or women in their family. It's a big celebration, you see, continuing the bloodline." Zevran smirked saucily, "Frankly, 'ow concerned the dalish are with their bloodlines, I'm surprised the wedding night isn't put on display too."

"Pervert." Fenris remarked sharply.

"Oh don't spoil it, keep telling us!" Merrill plead, eager to stop any arguments, her wide green eyes shimmered slightly.

Zevran sighed, "Ah fine, fine, was just my little joke. Anyway, de bride and de groom approach de keeper, who says some sort of blessing over them… let me see…" the Antivan cleared his throat, "Vir Assan, Vir Bor'Assan, Vir Adahlen."

Merill blinked and let out a soft sigh, it seemed the girl was a terminal romantic. "Oh That's lovely, it's the code of the Dalish, the Vir Tanadahl… The way of the arrow, the bow and the forest."

Intrigued, despite his natural resistance to the Dalish, Fenris leant forwards slightly, "What does it mean then? Translated?"

Merill beamed, "Fly straight and do not waver, bend but never break; together we are stronger than the one." Merrill sighed once more, "I'd never heard it used for a wedding before, but how lovely…"

Fenris and Zevran exchanged a look of disbelief that the Dalish, who had been nothing but hostile to the pair of them in recent years, could come up with something so admittedly poignant for a wedding blessing.

"Bend but never break… that's a hell of a lot to live up to." Fenris muttered.

Neither Zevran or Merrill felt close enough to the elf to point out that to them it sounded a perfect description of Hawke, and indeed, Fenris himself. Things had always threatened to tear them apart and yet, years later, here they still stood, totally devoted to one another.

Zevran broke the silence, "Oh! There is dancing too! The whole clan dances at a wedding, keeper too. Not a patch on antivan dancers, but still…" Zevran smirked, recalling his viewing of a Dalish wedding and how odd it was to see them letting their hair down, to see them leaping and spinning as if they'd never touched the ground in their lives, light as petals caught in the wind.

"Could you teach me?" Merrill asked, sitting more upright, voice tight with eagerness.

Zevran snapped out of his daydream and gently shook his head, "Another time, blossom, we are late for meeting our beloved amigos." He rose from his seat, trailing across the room to the smaller wash-room they'd set up, retrieving his shirt and dropping the towel off in one trip.

"We'd have been there by now if you didn't insist on washing your hair." Fenris grumbled, rising slowly and stretching. He paused briefly to check that the ring was still securely tied into Hawke's favor around his wrist.

Well, maybe not a Dalish wedding, but that little blessing sounded nice. Perhaps he'd ask Hawke if they could include it. If he ever got up the nerve to ask her the big question.

+_+_+_+

At the docks, Varric was having his acting muscles stretched to their very limits. A city Dwarf in his bones, he had no idea what made a good ship and was relying on Isabella's expetise. The trouble was that to maintain their disguises as a merchant and his 'escort' they would have to pretend he was an utter expert on all manner of ships. Currently they were getting by with an elaborate system of coded nods and winks from Isabella to mean anything from 'Good deal' to 'Don't trust this one'.

Still, it seemed to be working, the dock master was looked suitably intimidated by this dwarf's apparent knowledge and had stopped showing them what Isabella called 'old junkers' an hour ago.

Now he lead them up the gangplank of one of his smaller vessels, clearly not built for cargo. Wringing his hands slightly he wheedled, "What does Sirrah think of this vessel?"

Varric stamped one foot on the deck, taking the chance to glance at Isabella. She was nodding very subtly behind the shimmery veil she'd chosen as part of her disguise.

"Not bad." Varric conceded, "Won't carry much cargo."

"Well, no." The dock master confessed, "but sirrah said he was hoping to use the vessel as a passenger craft, not a primarily cargo-carrying ship."

"Hrm, so you _do_ listen." Varric smiled smugly. "How many can the old girl carry? How many crewmen would she be needing?"

"Oh," The man perked up slightly, clearly smelling a sale. "It could easily carry twenty, and would need a crew of no more than four or five. Not including servants." The man cleared his throat, "I would, however, warn you against taking her too far out into open sea, where was sirrah thinking of running his ferry?"

This was an easier lie to come up with, Varric waved one hand easily, "Just along the coast of the Free Marches, it's faster to go by boat than trekking over that wild countryside."

So, it might struggle in open water… still, the ship looked solid, and it wasn't like the sea between the Free Marches and Fereldan was known to be choppy. Besides, they'd have an experienced captain in charge and a crew of ten altogether. Varric liked those odds.

The blonde Dwarf glanced to Isabella again. Her eyes were sparkling. He nodded, "I think this might be the one… twenty would be more than enough room." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Does the old girl have a name?"

The dock master rubbed his hands gleefully, "Oh yes sirrah, she's called 'The Hawk's Flight'."

Varric very nearly gave the game away then by laughing, but fought it back admirably. With a wide grin he offered his hand to the man, "In that case," he purred in the silken tones of a man who'd struck many a bargain in his life,

"We just need to discuss the price."

The poor dock master had _no_idea what was about to hit him.

"I hate not being able to speak to you." Bethany whispered to what appeared to be the empty air.

Leaning on the wall just around the corner from her, Zevran let out a low sigh, "It is a trial, Betania, for me too." He kept his expression carefully blank. Anyone looking at this particular corner of the Vulgar lion would never have guessed the young woman and the elf were conversing at all. All part of the disguise, Hawke had insisted.

For a moment the two were silent, then Zevran allowed himself the luxury of a smile.

"If it makes jou feel better, caramia, I believe Fenris is suffering greatly for de sake of dis disguise."

Bethany smirked a little under her hooded robe. "I noticed. Marian's going mad too." She giggled, thinking on how at least her sister was sharing the unfairness of this separation.

It was all very well for Aveline and Donnic, who could happily remain a couple in this city under the guise of a pair of fleeing gaurds, but for the others it simply wasn't wise to be seen together. The elves in the group had been confined to the alienage, the humans taking rooms in the Vulgar Lion.

The only times they all dared gather together were rare occasions in an alleyway just outside the ale-house, where quick updates were hissed and instructions to lay low and keep an ear open for news were muttered. It was hardly the stuff romantic dreams were made of.

It was all the more frustrating on nights like this, when they were all there in the pub. The general feeling was that it should be like the old times; all of them sharing jokes, playing Wicked grace and (once a suitable amount of alcohol had been drunk) singing bawdy songs.

"…I adore jou." Zevran muttered.

Bethany's face went slightly pink and softly she mumbled, seemingly to no-one, "Stop that talk, it makes it worse, not being able to kiss you."

"Ah, now jou're just making it a challenge." Zevran smirked into his drink.

"Sneaky elf." Bethany bit her lip.

Zevran licked his own lips, purring back, "Jou know jou love it." He glanced up at the door and sighed, "Alas, it ends too soon. Varric is 'ere." He paused, then added, "See you in the alleyway in ten minutes for our, pah, mission update."

Bethany watched the elf casually shift off the wall, stretch, and head seemingly casually for the door. One by one various other members of their little team drifted outside. None of them looked very eager; it had been three weeks now with no escape looking likely.

They were in higher spirits as they left their meeting place that night. Zevran even grabbed Merrill's hands and danced a little with her, both of them delighted that at last a ship had been found and they would be leaving this city of hidden danger.

Hawke smiled to herself, watching them with something akin to a mother's love; she was relieved too, but was restraining her own joy for when they were all on the ship and out to sea.

Tomorrow evening was the time, they'd decided. Gave them enough time to wrap up loose ends, gather some supplies and get on board without causing too much suspicion. The plan was to behave as if they were all travelers employing Varric's 'ferry', with any luck, no dockworkers would stick their noses in and work out that the group exactly matched up with the fleeing Champion's companions.

"Marian."

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and turned around. "Hello lover." Fenris went red, making her smirk. "Relax, no-one to overhear us out here." She whispered, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Are you happy, Fenris? Tomorrow night we'll be sleeping in our own quarters on a ship taking us home." She sighed softly and moved closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

Fenris _did_ manage a small smile at that, stroking her ruby-red hair with one hand, "I'll be happy when we're far away from this city." He replied, then cleared his throat, "Marian, there's something I wanted to ask-"

"Betania, jou will dance too!" Zevran declared loudly, releasing Merrill from his impromptu jig (sending her tumbling against Isabella, who gladly took up the dance) and grabbing the younger Hawke's hands. Bethany laughed and nodded, the pair of them spinning about on the street like children.

Hawke laughed herself, shaking her head, "There's not even any music." She muttered.

Fenris inwardly cursed Zevran for distracting her, "I suspect they don't need any, but Marian-"

"…Shall we dance too?" Hawke asked suddenly, apparently not hearing Fenris' serious tone. Without waiting for an answer she seized his hands and dragged him over too, joining the other spinning pairs dancing to music that only existed inside their heads.

(A/N: ^^ Had to blag it a bit on the whole 'Dalish wedding' thing, hopefully I didn't make it sound too unbelievable.)


End file.
